


Two Dead Guys and a Girl

by moondragon23



Series: Growing Up [1]
Category: Psych
Genre: F/M, Gen, Series Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-18 01:25:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 63,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moondragon23/pseuds/moondragon23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shawn Spencer finally has life figured out. He has a cool job, a great girlfriend, and life couldn't be better. Then he gets his next two cases. A chemistry at the local university dies under suspicious circumstances. A young girl is looking for her missing father. Two cases. One week. Nothing Shawn can't handle, right? After all, how much can change in a week?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction. I've had this idea for a few years and finally managed to get it written down. It's a little rough in the beginning, but I promise it gets better.
> 
> This story takes place in Season 7 after Shawn and Jules move in but before Lassiter's wedding. It may contain spoilers to all seasons.
> 
> I have this story completely written and will be posting it one chapter a day.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Psych, I'm just playing with it. I only own the original characters created for this story.

_Santa Barbara, 1992_

 

15 year old Shawn Spencer slouched in a chair outside the principal's office. His jean clad legs were stretched out, arms crossed over a Whitesnake t-shirt. His hazel eyes gazed around the outer office from under tousled brown hair. He saw the secretary fiddling with her wedding ring and noticed her red-rimmed eyes. He wondered if she was fighting with her husband again. Judging by the pile of tissues in the trash can, it must have been serious. He remembered her looking at a receipt the last time he had been called down here. It was for a midday meal for two people, paid in cash. It looked like she had finally confronted her husband about the affair.

He leaned his head back against the wall, listening for any sounds coming from the office. His father was in there right now, talking with the principal. He didn't see what the big deal was. No one had gotten hurt. And you could barely see the scorch marks.

“He did what?” his father yelled. Shawn sighed. He and Gus had been planning on crashing Stacey Cremer's party this weekend. It would have been a warmup for the big one next week.Of course his dad wouldn't have let him go anyway. His plan had been to sneak out after his parents went to bed. But now his dad would be keeping a closer watch on him, torpedoing that plan.

Henry Spencer exited the office, fuming. He was still dressed in his work attire of a suit and tie, holster visible through the open jacket. His face was red, the color reaching up his forehead and through his thinning blond hair. “Let's go, Shawn,” he said sharply. Shawn levered himself out of the chair and followed the angry form of his father out the door.

The car ride home was tense and uncomfortable. Henry stayed silent until he had parked the car in the driveway. “What the hell were you thinking?” he asked furiously, turning to look at Shawn. “Someone could have gotten seriously hurt.”

“But they didn't,” Shawn countered. “It was only supposed to be a small reaction. And I had Gus double check everything. He said it would be fine.”

“Don't blame Gus. You're smart enough to have known better,” Henry said testily. “Your little stunt just got you suspended for a week.” He got out of the car and bent back down to look at Shawn. “And grounded for a month.”

“A month!?” Shawn gasped. Andrea Stohl's party was next Saturday. He had finally managed to score an invitation after weeks of persistent nagging. If he didn't show up, he was destined to be a social outcast for the rest of high school. He scrambled out of the car. “Dad, that's not fair! It was just a little prank.”

“Life isn't fair,” Henry said shortly. “It's about time you learned that.” He turned and headed into the house.

“You're just trying to ruin my life,” Shawn yelled after him.He stood there angrily for a moment before following his dad inside. “Why can't you just leave me alone?”

“I'm your father,” Henry said. “It's my job to make sure you turn into a responsible adult.”

“Like you?” Shawn said scornfully. “Maybe I don't want to be a cop. Maybe I don't care that the secretary's husband is cheating on her. Maybe I just want to be a normal, irresponsible kid.”

“You can't be a kid forever,” his dad said. “You have to grow up sometime.”

“Maybe I don't want to grow up,” Shawn said petulantly. He ran up the stairs to his room, slamming the door behind him.

 

_Santa Barbara, 2013_

 

_Monday_

 

The morning light shone down on the city. Its warm glow illuminated the coastal streets and the string of buildings along the boardwalk. One building had an office at the end with green lettering on the window. The lettering spelled the word 'Psych.' Most people were at work, but a few were walking the beach, enjoying the beautiful weather. This peaceful setting was shattered by the sound of gunshots and screaming coming from the Psych office.

“Shawn!” Burton Guster, aka Gus, yelled as his character died for the ninth time. He was wearing gray slacks and a pink shirt that worked nicely with his cocoa brown skin tone. His shaved head gleamed as he turned to look at his friend. “We're on the same team. Could you please stop killing me!”

Shawn, best friend and said assassin, smirked. He looked much as he did in high school, still clad in jeans and a t-shirt. He had refined the carefully tousled look for his hair and his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Sorry dude, guess you just keep getting in the way. Besides, “ he said with a positively evil grin, “you make it too easy.” His grin faded as on screen his character exploded from a plasma grenade. “Dude, that is so not cool.”

“You reap what you sow Shawn,” Gus stated with a satisfied grin.

“Um, excuse me?”

The guys turned around. Standing behind them was a teenage girl wearing a blue t-shirt and whitewashed jeans with a hole in the left knee. She had long brunette hair held back in a pony tail, hazel eyes, and was looking at them in confusion.

“I'm looking for Shawn Spencer. The newspaper article said he works here. Am I in the right place? This is Psych, right?” She glanced around the office. A couch was situated under the front window. Two desks stood opposite each other. The one on the right was neat and organized. The one on the left was cluttered with junk. She looked back at the two guys sitting on another couch in front of a plasma screen, playing video games. Clearly nothing about the place said 'psychic detective' to her.

“You've come to the right place,” Shawn said, standing up. On screen his character died in a bloody ambush by the opposing team. He winced but continued. “I am Shawn Spencer, psychic detective.”

She gestured behind him at the television screen. “A psychic who plays Halo?”

“It happens to be very good for honing hand eye coordination skills,” Gus said in defense. He got up and turned off the game.

“Plus my psychic ability allows me to 'see' where the enemy soldiers are before I run into them.” Shawn started raising his hand to his head in his classic psychic gesture. Gus slapped his arm before he could complete it.

“Wouldn't Silent Scope be a better game for developing hand eye coordination?” the girl asked. She mimed shooting at imaginary targets in demonstration.

“Yes, but then I wouldn't get to team up with my best bud. Team work is an important part of any investigation,” Shawn said seriously.

“They why do you keep killing me, Shawn?” Gus asked, disgruntled.

“To remind you to always be aware of your surroundings. Never take anyone at face value,” he said with a smirk.

“Yeah, whatever Shawn.” Gus muttered. He started putting the Xbox and games away.

“Well, video game discussions aside,” the girl said, turning serious. She took a deep breath. “I need help finding someone.”

Shawn and Gus exchanged a look. “If this is about a missing person, you should contact the police,” Gus started.

“No! No police,” she said vehemently. Shawn was a little taken aback by her statement. He glanced at Gus, who looked worriedly back at him. She continued on hurriedly. “I mean, I've heard about all the cases you've solved. Surely you're good enough to solve the case on your own.” She gave him a challenging look.

Intrigued, Shawn said, “Why don't you sit down and tell us what you know?” He gestured to the couch by the window. As she sat down, Gus pulled him aside.

“I don't like this,” Gus said, turning his back on the girl. He looked at Shawn seriously. “Did you see her reaction when I mentioned the police? I'm not getting mixed up in anything illegal, Shawn. Not again. Besides, shouldn't she be in school right now?”

“Gus, don't be a nervous Nelly,” he said. He paused. “That's a weird phrase. Who is Nelly? Any relation to the rapper?” He grinned at Gus. “What a dilemma.”

“Shawn, focus,” Gus said, giving him a shove.

He sighed. “We'll at least hear her out,” he said, not giving up. “Kids ditch school all the time. And maybe there's a perfectly innocent reason she doesn't want the police involved.” Gus snorted doubtfully. “Besides, we haven't had a case in over two weeks. Or. . .” Hesmirked at Gus. “I can continue kicking your butt in Halo.”

Gus glared at him for a moment. “Fine,” he said finally. “But I'm going on record as being against this.”

“Noted,” he said, turning around. He pulled up a chair and sat opposite the girl. Gus followed and stood behind him. “As I said I'm Shawn Spencer. And this is my associate, the Doctor.”

“Doctor who?” she asked, puzzled.

He turned to Gus, triumphant. “I told you I could get someone to say it.”

“You don't even watch that show Shawn.” Gus turned to the girl. “I'm Burton Guster,” he said extending his hand. “Could you tell us your name?”

“My name is Nicole Peterson,” she said, shaking his hand. “But everyone calls me Nikki.”

“Well Nikki,” Shawn said, turning back to the girl. “Who is it you are looking for?”

“Well, that's the thing,” she said, looking a little embarrassed. “I'm not sure who exactly I'm looking for.”

Shawn could feel Gus thinking 'I told you so.' “Can you tell us anything about them?” he asked. He was hoping she didn't want him to 'sense' who the missing person was. It was so much more work.

She sighed, looking down. “He's my dad,” she said quietly.

He looked over at Gus. He shook his head no, but Shawn wasn't so sure. Something felt off. “Is your father missing?” he inquired.

“Not exactly,” she said, looking up. He was startled by the sadness in her eyes. She blinked, and the look was gone, replaced by grim determination. “Look, it's really important that I find him.”

He hesitated. This was looking more like a police matter by the minute. “I'm not sure this is really our type of case,” he said uncertainly.

A look of resignation crossed her face. “I understand,” she said quietly. She got up to leave.

“Wait!” he said. Gus was really going to kill him. But he couldn't ignore someone in need. And if she wasn't going to go to the police, that left it up to him to help her. “We'll need some more information to track him down.” He wanted until Nikki was seated again. “When was the last time you saw him?”

She gave a short laugh. “That's the problem. I've never actually met him.”

Gus nudged him. He ignored him. “Do you know his name?”

“Umm, no,” she said, looking embarrassed. “My mom never mentioned him by name.”

“How about what he looks like?” he asked, hoping for at least a vague description.

“No,” she said again. She looked at him apologetically. “She only knew him for one night so there's not even any pictures of him.”

“Do you know where he lives?” he asked, grasping at straws now.

“Sort of?” she said hesitantly.

He was relieved at this point for any information he could get. “Sort of is good. We can work with sort of.”

“Well,” she said, perking up now that she had something to share, “I know he was in Columbia, North Carolina in 1997. And I know he was originally from Santa Barbara.”

“That's not much to go on,” he said with a sigh. He looked at her carefully. “Have you tried asking your mother about him?” There must be a reason the mother was being so tight-lipped about her father.

“I haven't talked to her in two weeks,” she said. “She would never tell me much about him.” He thought he saw tears in her eyes. She blinked and cleared her throat .“But that shouldn't be a problem right? You're a psychic, I'm sure you've solved cases with less information.” She looked at him hopefully.

“Um, Shawn?” said Gus. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Give me one second,” he said, giving her a kind smile.

She nodded. “Take your time,” she said, getting comfortable in the chair. “I'll wait.” She grabbed a magazine and started leafing through it.

He walked a few steps away with Gus.

“Dude, something is not right here.” Gus stated. “How are we supposed to find someone with no information? I think she's hiding something.” He glanced over at Nikki. She noticed and waved. He turned back to Shawn and continued. “Whatever she's messed up in I want no part of. I say we forget she was ever here.”

“But she is here,” he said emphatically. He gave Gus a determined look. “She came to us for help and who are we to turn her away?” He pulled Gus back another couple of steps. “There's more going on than she's telling us,” he continued quietly. “What if she's in real trouble? Besides, we don't have any other cases.”

“Fine,” said Gus, exasperated. “But you're on your own with this one.” He walked over to his desk and sat down.

Shawn returned to Nikki. “We'll take the case,” he said as he sat down.

She looked relieved. “Thank you.” She hesitated, “I know you sometimes work for the police department. Can you promise you won't mention to anyone I asked for your help?” She looked up at him pleadingly.

He hesitated before answering. “Look, are you in some kind of trouble? Because we have a policy against helping criminals.” Gus snorted at that. Shawn turned and gave him a look, clearly telling him to shut it.

“It's nothing like that,” she answered hurriedly. “It's just I'm only 15 and I don't want any of this getting back to my mom.” For a second, he thought he saw pain flicker over her face. Then it was gone and she laughed nervously. “She may have expressly forbidden me from looking for him.”

_Defying a parent,_ _I can relate to that,_ he thought. “Okay Miss Peterson,” he said, standing up. “We'll let you know when we have something.” Behind him, the office phone began to ring. Gus answered it. “How can we contact you?”

“I'll just stop by tomorrow to see what you found out,” she said, standing also. “Thank you again for agreeing to help me.” She paused as she turned to leave. “And I don't think it's very sporting to kill your own teammate,” she said, pointing to where the two had been playing Halo. She gave him a cheeky smile. “I would think a psychic would be able to outsmart his friend without resorting to violence.” With that she left.

“What a strange girl,” he said to himself. There was something about the way she looked when she smiled. It seemed familiar to him.

“That was the chief,” Gus said, hanging up the phone. “We have a case.”

“Two cases in one day? That's great. To the Blueberry!” he shouted, using the nickname for Gus's little blue Echo. He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. “What is it this time? A murder? Buried treasure? Ooo, maybe we'll have to go undercover as ninjas to break up an international league of assassins.” Nikki's case went to the back of his mind as he wondered what adventure the police department had for them this time.

Sighing, Gus followed Shawn out the door. 

* * *

 

In the car, Gus filled Shawn in on what the chief had told him over the phone.

“It seems a chemist at UC Santa Barbara was found dead in his lab a couple of days ago,” Gus said. “They suspect he died from toxic fumes produced by one of his experiments. It looks accidental, but since he's a prominent scientist, the chief wants your opinion.”

“A chemist. Aren't those the people who turn lead into gold?” Shawn asked, getting excited. “Dude, do you think we can demand our fee in gold?”

“That's alchemy Shawn,” he said. He could almost predict what Shawn would say next.

“Isn't that the study of fortunes based on stars?” Shawn asked, perplexed.

“No, that's astrology,” he said. _Next he'll go on about astronomy. Didn't we already do this with the planetarium case?_

“Isn't that the study of stars?” Shawn asked. He could swear he saw Shawn hiding a grin.

“Chemistry is the study of matter,” he stated, bringing an end to the argument. “This chemist was trying to create a new plastic polymer when he died. Apparently one of the beakers was mislabeled,”

“Was there a huge explosion? Was anything left of the lab? Oh, I bet there was only a shadow left on the wall in the shape of his body,” Shawn said. He started bouncing in his seat like a little kid.

“Actually the chemicals created a toxic gas that knocked him out and killed him within minutes,” he said. Besides him Shawn slumped down in the seat, deflated. Gus shook his head. “You need to grow up.”

“Never!” Shawn stated emphatically.

He sighed and didn't say anything else.

* * *

 Almost as soon as Shawn and Gus entered the police station, they ran into Juliet O'Hara. She was dressed in a pantsuit and her new short haircut added to an overall tougher appearance for the blond detective, which Shawn found incredibly attractive.

“Hey sweety,” he said to his girlfriend. He pulled Juliet around the corner. Checking to make sure no one was looking, he gave her a quick kiss. “I missed you.”

“Shawn, it's only been a couple of hours,” she said. However, she looked pleased by the attention.

“Really? I could have sworn it was longer,” he said, giving a long suffering sigh. He gave Juliet a despairing look. “The hours without you are just bleak and empty.” He slumped as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Gus snorted. Shawn shoved him, the weight of the world magically lifting.

“Well, as fun as it is to see you,” she said, laughing, “I am working. Was there a point to this visit?”

“As a matter of fact there is,” Shawn said. He puffed up his chest importantly. “It seems the chief needs our help on another case.”

“That's great! What case?” she asked eagerly. He was about to respond when Carlton Lassiter's voiced echoed down the hallway.

“O'Hara! Where's that file?” Lassiter's voice was full of frustration as he called for his partner.

She winced. “I have to go. We'll talk later.” She looked at him seriously. “Lassiter and I have a heavy caseload right now and he's been very grouchy today. Please try not to annoy him anymore.”

“Anymore?” he asked, pouting. “But I haven't done anything yet.” Annoying Lassiter was one of his favorite pastimes at the station.

“Just being here annoys him,” she said. She hurried away, calling back over her shoulder, “Play nice Shawn.”

He watched her leave, then turned to Gus. “Let's not keep the chief waiting,” he said.

As they headed to the chief's office, he spied Lassiter sitting at his desk.

“Hey, you go on ahead, I'll catch up,” he said, slipping behind a pillar.

“Shawn! Remember what Juliet said,” Gus admonished him. He shushed him, watching Lassiter to see ifhe had heard their conversation. Gus sighed and headed into Chief Vick's office.

Shawn peeked around the pillar. _Good_ , he thought, _Lassiter didn't hear anything_. He stealth-fully made his way to Lassiter's desk, ducking behind pillars, next to desks, and behind one particularly large cop. Finally he made it behind Lassiter. The 6'1'' detective had his lean frame hunched over his desk, reading a case file. He ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair, which lately had been showing more salt. He seemed completely focused on the file.

Shawn leaned in and stood silently behind Lassiter, breathing quietly. As he waited for the detective to notice him, he read the file Lassiter was reviewing over his shoulder.

Lassiter remained oblivious to his presence for a few moments. Then he seemed to realize someone was behind him. He turned around to come face to face with Shawn.

“Hiya Lassie” he whispered, grinning at the surprised look on Lassiter's face.

Lassiter jumped. “God dammit Spencer,” he swore. “Do you know how incredibly annoying that is?” He turned back to the file he was working on. “I don't have time for your juvenile antics today,” he continued.

“Yes I heard you have a big case load,” Shawn said. He came around and sat on the edge of Lassiter's desk. He put his hand to his head, closed his eyes, and started waving his arm about. He recalled the details from the file Lassiter was working on. Judging by his notes, Lassiter expected the brother. The quick glance Shawn had of the file told him this wasn't the case. “Including one involving domestic violence and a dead husband.” He frowned, as if concentrating. “I'm also sensing the brother is a dead end,” he said, opening his eyes.

“Enough Spencer,” Lassiter growled as Shawn almost hit him in the head. Shawn could almost see the steam coming out of his ears. Lassiter tugged a folder out from under him, almost unseating him from the desk. “Don't you think it's about time you grew up?”

“Man, why is everyone telling me that today?” he asked. He ducked off the desk as Lassiter tried to swat him with the folder.

“Mr. Spencer,” said Chief Karen Vick, coming out of her office. She was an older woman of small stature. But the force of her presence overcame any obstacle her height posed.Right now, she looked annoyed. “My office. Now.” She headed back inside.

“Run along Spencer and let the big boys do some real work,” Lassiter said with a smirk.

Shawn started to walk away. “By the way,” he said over his shoulder. “I'm sensing the neighbor did it. He seems very concerned with the wife's well-being.” There were several domestic disturbance calls made by the neighbor. He had tried, unsuccessful, and on several occasions, to convince the wife to file a charges against her husband. He also was home alone during the time of the attack. He stopped out of eyesight to see what happened.

“Son of a bitch, he's right,” Lassiter cursed. “O'Hara,” he said, as his partner joined him. “Call the neighbor in again for questioning.” He ran a hand over his face, sighing.

Shawn smiled and entered the chief's office. “Chief, what is happening?” He saw Gus, seated in a chair in front of the chief's desk, roll his eyes.

“Sit down Mr. Spencer,” the chief said sternly. She glared at Shawn. “I'd appreciate it if you conducted yourself with some dignity while in my station. And stop interfering with my detectives while they are working.”

“I don't call it interference when I do their work for them,” he said with a grin, taking a seat next to Gus. He leaned over towards him. “Maybe if we ask real nicely, she'll let Lassie come out and play,” he said in a loud whisper.

“Mr. Spencer you may want to think about acting in a more mature manner,” Vick said, her annoyance peaking. “We are not in the business of hiring juveniles to work on cases.”

Shawn winced. He knew he had pushed the chief a little too far this time. “That hurt, chief. But I will try to take your advice under advisement.” He tried to look more mature.

“See that you do,” Vick said with a sigh. She handed over a case file to Gus. He perused it quickly, then passed it along to Shawn. “The victim is Jeffrey Sanders, 45, a chemistry professor at UC Santa Barbara. He was found dead in his laboratory Saturday night. ME says cause of death was asphyxiation. We suspect he inhaled toxic fumes from one of his experiments. We're waiting on lab results to confirm. CSI said a couple of the beakers were mislabeled. I'm inclined to rule it an accidental death but since he's a prominent scientist I wanted you to take a look first.” She looked at Shawn expectantly.

He glanced through the file. Ignoring the written statements for now, he focused on the crime scene photos. There was Sanders, dead on the floor, his experiment still set up on the table. There were several shots of the lab, which was extremely neat and organized. Nearly every item in the lab had a little white label attached to it. Another shot showed the table top where the experiment took place. Shawn squinted at the bottles. A couple of the beakers had labels that seemed slightly askew and wrinkled. The labels on everything else in the lab were perfectly straight and smooth.

Shawn shut the file. He closed his eyes and held his hand over it, as if trying to sense what happened. “I'm getting something,” he said, eyes still closed. “I'm seeing letters, letters and numbers.” He started waving his hand through the air as if writing something. “H20, H2SO4, NaCl,” he said, recalling that the labels for the last two chemicals had seemed off. He wrote out each set of letters as he said them.

Gus, knowing he had discovered something, spoke up, “Those are all common laboratory chemicals.”

“Yes,” he said, opening his eyes and pointing to Gus. “I'm also seeing little white bits of paper. Like name tags if you will. But there's something wrong with them. The tag says Cindy. She's a fun girl, gets along well with others. A party girl, if you will.” He gave the chief a knowing look, not able to help himself. Her nostrils flared angrily, so he hurriedly continued. “But wait,” he said, looking bewildered. “This isn't Cindy. It's Tony. And Tony has a temper. He's a bit, _explosive_ , if you will,” He started acting as if someone was trying to stab him. “No Tony, don't kill me.” He wrestled with his imaginary opponent, falling to the floor.

“What does all this mean Mr. Spencer?” Vick asked, cutting short the performance.

He pretended to snap out of vision. He got up and collapsed into the chair beside Gus.

“Check the bottles that were mislabeled,” he said, a little out of breath. These acts were more tiring than they used to be. “I have a very strong feeling our victim did not label those bottles himself. This wasn't an accident.” He leaned in, and said dramatically, “This was murder.”

Vick eyed him silently for several moments. “I'll have someone check on those bottles,” she said finally. “If we find signs of tampering, I'll put you on the case.”

“Great,” he said, clapping his hands together. He stood up. “We'll be awaiting your call. Come on Gus.” He turned to leave.

“Mr. Spencer,” Vick called after him. “Remember what we discussed.”

“Of course Chief,” he said, heading out the door.

“Mr. Guster?” she asked, turning to Gus.

“I'll try to get him to act in a more mature manner,” he said with dignity. He nodded to the chief and quickly headed out after Shawn.

“Let's go watch Lassie pretend I didn't solve his case for him,” were the first words out of Shawn's mouth.

“How about we do what the Chief said and leave Lassiter alone,” Gus said seriously. “We can't afford to loose any cases because you can't behave. We have a rent to pay and an electric bill due next week. Let's just head back to the office and start researching the Sanders guy.” He gave Shawn a stern look.

Shawn wilted under Gus's gaze. “Aw man, you're no fun.” Nevertheless, he followed Gus out of the police station incident free. He kept quiet until they got the the car. “Gus,” he asked, trying to sound innocent.

“Yes Shawn?” Gus answered, his voice wary.

“Would it be too immature to hit a smoothie place before getting to work?” he asked, struggling to keep up the innocent act.

Gus considered this. “Well, I suppose not,” he said, unlocking the car and getting inside.

“Great!” he said, getting in. “There's this new smoothie place on State Street that makes pineapple smoothies with pineapple shaped sprinkles. Imagine Gus, pineapple shaped sprinkles.” His eyes sparkled with excitement.

Gus sighed. “Like working with a five year old,” he muttered. Shawn pretended not to hear him. 

* * *

Later that night, Shawn and Juliet were cleaning up after dinner. Shawn was still surprised how easily he and Juliet were able to fit into each other's lives. Even cleaning up went smoothly, neither person getting in the other's way, as if it was a choreographed dance. They had a rule against discussing work over dinner, so this was the first chance he had to talk to Juliet about the cases.

“So Jules,” he said, rinsing the last plate, “were you able to get a confession out of the neighbor?”

She was putting the leftovers away. She turned to him in surprise. “How did you know about that case?”

He gave her a knowing look. “I'm a psychic Jules, remember?” He brought his hand to his head. “I'm also sensing Lassie wasn't pleased about the confession.” He looked to her for confirmation as he started drying the dishes.

She shook her head. “I am still amazed by what you can do sometimes.” She crossed behind him and grabbed a second towel. As she reached for a plate, she continued. “As a matter of fact he did confess. And Carlton did seem rather upset over it. Which is surprising considering how much he wanted to put this case to bed.” Beside her, he hid a smile, glad that his hunch had been correct. “He was even more upset when the chief gave us the Sanders case,” she continued. She looked over at Shawn. “Apparently our resident psychic had a vision it was murder.”

The chief had called a couple of hours after he left the station. Most of the bottles only showed a single set of fingerprints, matching the victim. However, the mislabeled bottles also showed a second, unknown set of prints, causing the chief to believe he was right and someone tampered with those bottles.

He put the last plate away and turned to Juliet. “I can't help what the spirit world decides to tell me. They had information to share about the Sanders case and who am I to ignore that?” He gave her helpless look.

She just rolled her eyes. “I'm just glad you're on the case,” she said, leading the way into the living room. “It means we get to work together.” They sat on the couch next to each other. As he reached for the remote, she said, “Besides, you haven't had any cases in over two weeks.”

“Yeah, it has been rather slow lately,” he agreed, turning on the TV. He started flipping through channels, looking for something good to watch. “It seems things are picking up again. We even got a case this morning at Psych.”

“Really?” she asked, looking interested. “What about?”

He paused on a cop drama. After a few seconds he said, “It was the landlord,” and continued flipping channels. To Juliet, he said, “A girl came in wanting us to find out who her birth father is. Seems her mother is very tight lipped about him and won't tell her who he is. She thought a psychic might be able to track him down. Ooo, Jaws.” He stopped flipping channels as he came across the classic film.

Juliet frowned. “That doesn't seem like a case you would typically take,” she said slowly. “What did Gus have to say about it?”

He snorted. “What do you think? He was against it. Especially since she's only 15 and I don't think she can pay us.”

“Then why did you take the case?” she asked quizzically.

He sighed, fiddling with the remote. “There was just something about her,” he said, not able to meet Juliet's eyes. “She was clearly very upset about something, though she hid it well. And finding her father seemed very important to her. I figured I should at least see what I can find. I just couldn't turn her away.” He could feel himself blushing slightly from embarrassment.

Juliet surprised him by leaning over and giving him a kiss. He looked at her in confusion when she pulled away. “What was that for?”

“For agreeing to help her,” she said, looking him in the eyes. “For being the kind of man who would help a complete stranger because it was the right thing to do.” She blushed slightly, looking away.

They watched the movie silently for a few moments. “Jules” he said quietly. She turned to look at him. He could feel the tension building between them. “I. . .” He cleared his throat. “Thanks,” he said lamely.

She leaned in closer. “No problem,” she said before pressing her lips against his.

He fumbled with the remote, turning the TV off. Throwing it on the table, he pulled Juliet closer to him, leaning into the kiss. He cupped her face with his hand, fingers curling in her hair. She responded by straddling him, pushing him back into the couch. She nipped playfully at his bottom lip before leaving a trail of kisses down the side of his neck. “I'll have to take hopeless cases more often,” he panted. “Especially if this is how you're going to respond.” He gasped as Juliet bit his earlobe.

“No more talking,” she purred in a sultry voice into his ear. She ran her hands down his chest as she kissed him again, delving her tongue into his mouth. His tongue curled around hers as he ran his fingers through her hair. Breaking the kiss, she grasped the edges of his shirt and lifted it over his head. She ran her hands lightly over the smooth planes of his chest, tweaking his nipples. He groaned, pulling her down into another kiss. One hand snaked under her own shirt, reaching up to cup a breast. She moaned into his mouth.

“Bedroom?” he asked breathlessly. She nodded, giving his lip one last nip before standing up. She gave him a seductive look before sauntering out of the room towards the bedroom. He took a second to catch his breath before rising up off the couch and following her. He closed the bedroom door behind him.


	2. Tuesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely love McNab on the show, so I will try to include him in my stories whenever possible. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter.

_Tuesday_

 

Shawn leaned back in his chair and sighed. He was at the Psych office, doing something vital to every case; research. Gus was busy with his pharmaceutical route that morning, trying to sell his company's drugs to local doctors. He didn't understand why Gus still has that job. Psych is so much more fun. But every time he brings it up, Gus starts going on about bills and health benefits and pension plans and he inevitably tunes it out. So here he was, stuck doing all the research himself. Most of what he had found were articles full of unpronounceable scientific terms that he couldn't even begin to understand. Gus really should have been the one doing this. Not only would he understand the articles, he would probably enjoy reading them. The geeky bastard loved to learn new things.

“New rule,” Shawn muttered to himself. “Gus does all research on any science related cases.” He glanced at his phone sitting on the desk, wishing it would ring. Anything to relieve the boredom. But it stayed stubbornly silent.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He had been staring at a computer screen for the last two hours and it was giving him a headache. He wasn't uncovering anything useful in Sanders' research. Maybe he'd look into his coworkers at the university, see if he had any rivals. In retrospect, that is where he should have started, instead of trying to understand those indecipherable research papers. He groaned as he leaned forward again, calling up the university's website. “Chemistry, chemistry,” he muttered to himself, looking for a link to the relevant section of the site. He froze as he heard a faint sound behind him.

“Hello?” he called, turning around. Silence. Having had people break into the Psych office before, he got up and checked the other room. The front door was still closed and nothing seemed out of place. No one was there. Still wondering what the sound could have been, he returned to his desk. He found a link to a list of staff members in the chemistry department and started perusing it. There was only one other professor performing the same research as Sanders, a Dr. Lyle Pratt. Shawn was just pulling up Pratt's page when a voice sounded behind him.

“Watchya doin'?”

Shawn jumped and spun around. Standing behind him was Nikki Peterson. “What are you doing here?” he said, trying to calm his pounding heart. “And do you have to stand right behind me?” He could understand now why Lassiter was so upset when he did the same thing to him yesterday.

She pouted. “I said I'd come back today to see how you were doing on my case,” she said, coming around the desk. She was wearing a blue hooded sweatshirt and either the same ratty jeans as yesterday or an identically ratty pair. She stood in front of him, arms crossed, and looked disappointingly at him. “Did you forget?” She glanced down at his desk. “Hey, are those regular nacho cheese or spicy?” she asked, pointing to the bag of chips he had been munching on.

“Regular,” he said, taking a minute to gather his thoughts. He took out a yellow legal pad, glancing at Nikki. The truth was Nicole Peterson was a pretty common name. Common enough that a Google search had turned up thousands of worthless results. Even adding that she was from North Carolina hadn't helped. He needed more information from Nikki in order to find _her_ , let alone her father.

“To answer your first question: I'm a psychic. Of course I didn't forget,” he said, feeling a bit insulted. He had just spoken to her yesterday, after all. “The spirits just have – “

“How does being psychic have anything to do with remembering something?” she interrupted, a puzzled frown on her face. “That doesn't make any sense.”

“You need a good memory in order to remember all the things the spirits tell you,” he said, annoyed at being interrupted. He tried again, trying to inject more authority and mysticism into his voice, “Now, as the spirits wanted me to say – “

“I have a pretty good memory,” Nikki interrupted again. She raised an eyebrow. “Does that make me psychic?” she asked mockingly.

“A good memory doesn't make you a psychic,” he said exasperated. “Talking to spirits does. Can you please just – “

“How does the whole talking to spirits work exactly?” she asked, warming to the subject. Her eyes darted to the Doritos bag and back to him, so quickly he almost missed it. “You say they talk to you,” she continued, as if thinking aloud. “They can't be physically talking or everyone would hear them. So they must be talking into your mind.” She started pacing in front of the desk, becoming more animated. This was a far cry from the quiet girl from yesterday. “Let's say that is what their doing. But there is more than one spirit, so you must have a way to tell them apart. Maybe they 'sound' different in your head. Is that how you recognize the victims when they contact you?” She turned to Shawn for an answer. Before he could even think of one, she shook her head. “No, that wouldn't work. You haven't met most of your victims, so what would there be to recognize? Maybe you see an image of them in your head when they speak. Or can sense their identity through their auras. But that would have the same problem as their voices. You haven't met them.” She stopped pacing and stood directly in front of him. “I just have one question for you,” she said, looking very serious.

Shawn was still mentally trying to catch up. Nikki talked fast, with barely a pause between words. He didn't think she took more than two breaths the whole speech. And she had seriously thought this psychic thing through. She had exposed more holes in his act in five minutes than Lassiter had discovered in the seven years he had known him. He hoped her question wasn't if he was psychic. This girl had the smarts to ruin him if she wanted. “What's the question?” he asked with some trepidation.

Still looking serious, Nikki asked, “Can I have some of those?” She pointed to the bag of Doritos on the desk.

Relieved, he nodded. “Sure, go ahead.” Before he had finished speaking, she had grabbed the bag and started eating. He just stared at her. She was inhaling the chips so quickly he thought she was going to choke on them. He started mentally reviewing the steps to the Heimlich maneuver in his head.

Noticing his stare, Nikki paused in her eating. She blushed. “Sorry,” she said with embarrassment, looking down. “I had to skip breakfast in order to get out of the house before my mom woke up.” She tried to hand the bag of chips back.

He waved her away. “Keep them. I've had to do the same thing a time or to growing up with my dad. Besides, I heard it's best to swallow your food whole without all that time wasted on chewing. That's how snakes do it.” She glared but started eating again, much more slowly. He nodded approvingly, and continued. “Let me guess; you got caught sneaking around with a boy and your mom grounded you.” He waited to see what her answer would be. He had heard a slight waver in her voice when she mentioned her mom. He had heard it yesterday too. She was lying about something to do with her mom, and he was hoping to figure out what it was.

“Something like that,” Nikki said. Her voice was steady, but she wouldn't meet his eyes. “Didn't you have something to ask me?” she said hurriedly, changing the subject.

“Not me,” he said, letting the matter drop for now. “The spirits had some questions in order to better locate your father.”

“Shouldn't the 'spirits' already know everything?” she asked, using air quotes. She was clearly still skeptical. As if her long speech hadn't made that clear already.

“They don't know everything,” he elaborated, winging it. “They know where to go to find the answers. Unfortunately, they are a little stumped with you.” He grabbed the legal pad and a pen. “They need a little more information in order to find the correct essence trail.” He thought that might sound suitably mystical for her.

“Essence trail, right,” she said sarcastically. _Apparently not_ he thought. “So what do the 'spirits' need to know?” She pulled a chair in front of his desk and sat down.

He cleared his throat. “Just some basic information,” he said. “Date of birth. Also where you were born.” At her look he continued. “So the spirits know where to start looking.”

“November 23, 1997 in Columbia, North Carolina,” she answered promptly.

_So that puts her father in Columbia_ _late February or early_ _March_ he thought. _That at least narrows it down._ “Did you grow up in Columbia?” he asked.

“No, we moved around a lot,” she said, sighing. “My mom had to go wherever there was work.” She looked at him sadly. “It was always just the two of us.”

“You didn't have any other relatives who could help out? Or friends?” he asked, surprised. He remembered his grandfather hanging around when he was a kid, and of course his Uncle Jack, the treasure hunter. Gus had been like a brother to him. They spent so much time together the Gusters became like a second family.

“Nope. Mom is an only child and her parents died before I was born,” she said, picking at a hole in her jeans. “And we moved around too much to make any permanent friends. Since my dad wasn't in the picture, that just left the two of us.” She shifted in her seat, avoiding eye contact. “Are there any other questions?” she asked uncomfortably.

“No, that should be all for now,” he said. The questioning was obviously making Nikki uneasy and he should have enough now to make some decent headway. He could understand why finding her father was so important to her. She didn't get along well with her mom and had no friends. Her father was her last chance to find someone who might understand her. That is, if Shawn could find him.

His musings were interrupted by his stomach growling. And not a quiet little gurgle growl either. Rather it sounded like a loud, ferocious beast about to pounce on his next victim. He glanced at the clock. He hadn't eaten before starting his research this morning and was surprised to see it was already after 11.

Nikki giggled, turning back to her cheerful self. “I guess I wasn't the only one to skip breakfast this morning,” she said, grinning. She tilted the bag of chips towards him. “Hungry?” she asked impishly.

He drew himself up, trying to look imposing. “A psychic learns to ignore the demands of the flesh when communing with the spirits,” he said with dignity. “A little hunger is small price to pay for knowledge.” She just rolled her eyes and handed him the bag. He managed to maintain his dignified pose until he looked into the bag. “It's empty!” he exclaimed.

“It is not!” she protested indignantly.

He looked at her and turned the bag upside down. A scattering of crumbs and a single chip landed on his desk. He raised an eyebrow.

“OK, now it's empty,” she said, grinning back at him.

He shook his head, “You must be fun to live with,” he muttered, wiping the crumbs off his desk. He ate the single chip, but he left far from satisfied. “That was the last of the food,” he said, whining. Being hungry always made him cranky. “Gus won't buy any new snacks until tomorrow.” He pouted at Nikki, blaming her for the food shortage.

She jumped up, “I guess we'll have to go out to eat,” she said. She started heading to the door, then realized he wasn't following her. “Are you coming? I don't have any money.”

“Why is that my problem?” he asked, annoyed and amused by her behavior at the same time. “I didn't eat all the food.”

“But you didn't find my dad, who could have bought me food,” she said, trying to sound logical. “The least you can do is buy me breakfast. Or is it lunch now? Brunch? And what about a late breakfast or early lunch?” She saw that he was still standing there. “Come on,” she said, grabbing his arm. He had just enough time to grab his phone before she pulled him out the door. 

* * *

 

Shawn took her to a small diner near the office. He was glad he had picked somewhere close by because Nikki talked nonstop the entire way there. She didn't stay on any one topic for long; by the time they reached the diner she had determined the difference between a late breakfast and early lunch (same time but different menu), proposed an idea to end world hunger (a dry food for humans similar to kibble), and lamented the second cancellation of her favorite sci-fi cartoon (which he had never even heard of). By the time they finally reached the diner, she had dragged him into a heated argument over the best type of music (she made some good points defending rock 'n' roll but in his mind it was always the 80's.)

Once there, she ordered what looked like half the menu. He didn't complain, because eating all that food forced her to stop talking, giving his ears a rest. Besides, he was using Gus's credit card to pay for breakfast. Afterwards, she was much quieter, so he decided to stop for pineapple smoothies at one of his favorite smoothie places. They were now walking down the boardwalk back to the Psych office.

Nikki took a long sip of her smoothie. “These are really good,” she said approvingly. “Not many places can make a good pineapple smoothie.”

“There's a place across town that makes the best smoothies of all time,” Shawn said, sipping his own. “I'll take you there some time.”

“OK,” she said. She turned to look at him. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“You're welcome,” he said. He watched her out of the corner of his eye. She had calmed down considerably after the meal and now seemed content to walk in silence. “So,” he said, never liking silence himself, “Do you always talk that much when you're hungry? Or was that just to annoy me into buying you breakfast?” He turned his head towards her, waiting for an answer.

Nikki blushed. “Sorry about that,” she said with a tinge of embarrassment. “I talk a lot when I'm nervous. Usually its not so bad around strangers. Just people I'm close with.” She was quiet for a minute, then turned around and started walking backwards in front of him. “So, how's the police case going?” she asked. She sipped her smoothie, grinning at him cheekily.

“What makes you think I have another case?” he asked, hiding his surprise.

“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You got a call yesterday while I was in the office. I distinctly heard Gus refer to the caller as 'chief.' Unless you're part of a clan or something, he was likely talking to the chief of police. You left immediately after I did, so the chief probably called you in. Since you were playing video games when I first met you, she called about a new case, not an existing one. This morning you were looking at the UC Santa Barbara website. Unless you decided to go to college late in life,” and here she looked doubtfully at him,” you were researching the professor who died a few days ago in one of the labs. I read about it in the newspaper.” She looked at him smugly. The effect was ruined when he had to grab her arm to keep her from tripping over a couple walking their dog.

“Thanks,” she said, turning around to walk normally. When he didn't respond, she looked over at him. “So, was I right?” she asked eagerly, grinning at him.

Shawn was amazed. He picked out clues from his surroundings and deduced the truth from them on a daily basis. It was what led to him pretending to be a psychic in the first place. But he had never met anyone else who could do the same thing besides his father. It was kind of freaky, being on this side of it. Pondering this, he realized Nikki was still looking at him, waiting for an answer. Considering his options, he decided to go with the truth. Sort of. “I may or may not have been given a case, which could possibly involve a local university, that involves the untimely ending of an individual who might have been working in a field taught at said school, under suspicious like circumstances,” he said, trying to make what he was saying sound as convoluted as possible. He couldn't just admit outright she was correct, after all.

She looked blankly at him for a minute, then frowned in concentration. She muttered under her breath, trying to figure out what Shawn said. After a minute her expression cleared, and she looked up at him. “Have you looked at persons who may have been present at the event that possibly transpired at the previously mentioned location?” she asked, in an attempt to be as convoluted as him.

Seeing that this way of talking would make the conversation take twice as long and cause headaches, he dropped the act. “I'm meeting up with Gus soon to investigate the crime scene and talk to witnesses,” he said.

“Cool!” she said eagerly. “Can I come?” She pulled him to a stop and gave him a pleading look.

He sighed. “Shouldn't you be in school?” he asked irritably.

She shook her head. “Nope. Some kind of teacher's conference thing. I have the whole day free. How about it?” She resumed the pleading look, adding a puppy dog whine.

“Come on,” he said condescendingly. “I perfected that look. There's no way it's going to work on me.” _This time_ he added silently in his head. He crossed his arms and stared back at her. After a minute she threw up her hands in surrender.

“Fine, I can't come,” she said crossly. She turned serious and looked him right in the eye. “But promise me you'll work on my case too, OK?” she said, poking him in the chest.

“I promise,” he said, crossing his heart.

“Good,” she said, all smiles again. “Then I will see you tomorrow.” She skipped off down the boardwalk.

Shawn continued on to the Psych office alone, thinking about the events of that morning. Nikki Peterson was a unique and strange individual. And unless he wanted her to keep hanging around and eating all his food, he should find her dad as soon as possible. With renewed determination, he entered the Psych office.

Gus was sitting inside at his desk. “I was just about to call you,” he said, putting down his cell phone. “The police are down at the university, re-investigating the crime scene and looking for witnesses. We should go.” He looked at the smoothie in Shawn's hand and frowned. “What have you been doing all morning?”

“That is not important right now,” he said, slurping up the last of his smoothie. What Gus didn't know wouldn't hurt him, or Shawn when Gus found out he stole his credit card again. He threw out the empty smoothie container and clapped his hands. “Let's ride!”

* * *

 “Ah, the hallowed halls of UC Santa Barbara,” Shawn said, as he and Gus entered the chemistry wing of the university. “It sure brings me back to my days on campus.” He smiled fondly, remembering those crazy times.

“What days on campus?” Gus asked, confused. “You never went to college.” He gave Shawn a look, daring Shawn to disproof him.

“Then why do I have a master's degree in phsysics hanging on my wall?” Shawn asked. He smiled at a couple of girls in the hall, turning to give the girls a little wave as he walked past. They giggled as Gus grabbed his arm and turned him back around, glaring at him. He just smiled back innocently. He flirted with almost every girl they passed, as long as Juliet wasn't around. It was almost a reflex at this point.

“You made that degree in photoshop when we were working the case at the Meitner school,” Gus said, letting go of his arm.

He thought back to that case. He had gone undercover as a guest lecturer in order to catch a murderer. “OK, you have a point,” he conceded, rubbing his arm. “Man, you have a grip like a rabid spider monkey. Look I'm already starting to bruise.” He held his arm up to Gus's face for him to see. Gus just slapped him away. “But I did spend time on campus visiting you when you were in college,” he said, bringing them back to the original discussion.

“You only visited me once, right after I was dumped by my girlfriend,” Gus said. He turned to Shawn, narrowing his eyes. “You said you wanted to cheer me up. Do you remember what happened that weekend?” Gus stared at him, waiting for his response.

“I took you to a frat party to hook you up with a new girl,” he said warily. He could guess where Gus was going with this and it wasn't one of his prouder moments.

“And what happened at that party?” Gus asked tersely.

“Dude, it was like 15 years ago,” he complained.

“You ditched me to make out with a math major,” Gus said, coming to a stop. He stood there glaring at Shawn.

“In my defensive she wasn't just any math major,” he said, trying to get Gus to understand his position. “She was a hot math major. A hot blond math major. I mean, how many of those do you think even exist?” He waited for Gus to respond. When he just continued to glare, he continued. “I had to hook up with her. What else was I supposed to do?” He looked at Gus pleadingly.

“You were supposed to be my friend and support me in my time of need,” Gus said reproachfully.

“Aren't you being a little over dramatic?” he asked teasingly.

“I got drunk and threw up on my bio lab partner, Shawn,” Gus said angrily. “She wouldn't talk to me for the rest of the semester.”

He winced. Trust Gus to know just what to say to make him feel guilty. It was a skill only Gus and Henry seemed to possess, although he supposed Juliet would develop it soon enough. He hated feeling guilty. “Gus, man, if I didn't say it then, I'm sorry,” he said sincerely. He held up his hand as if taking an oath, “I promise from this point on I will never ditch you for a girl again,” he said solemnly.

Gus snorted. “Don't make promises you can't keep, Shawn,” he said. But he seemed to be somewhat mollified by Shawn's apology.

“We good?” he asked, holding out his fist.

Gus looked at him for a minute, then sighed. “We're good,” he said, bumping Shawn's fist with his own.

“Great!” he said, immediately reverting back to his cheerful self. They started walking down the hallway again. “Let's talk motive. I'm betting on an angry girlfriend. She's dating a smart guy, seems dependable. Then he starts spending long nights at the lab, missing dates, forgetting important anniversaries. Maybe she's tired of being ignored. Maybe she found out he got chummy with one of the lab techs. Either way she eventually has enough. She sneaks in, messes with his experiment so the death looks accidental, then acts broken-hearted when the police tell her of his death.” He looked at Gus, pleased with himself.

“It's a good theory,” Gus said as they reached an intersection with another hallway, “Too bad he didn't have a girlfriend.” He started heading to the right.

He grabbed Gus's arm. “Dude, it's this way,” he said, dragging him to the left.

“But the sign says chemistry labs to the right,” Gus said, pulling him to a stop. He pointed to the sign on the wall in front of them.

“Except Sanders was in one of two chemistry labs located next to the physics wing,” he said. He let go of Gus's arm and started down the left hand hallway. After a moment Gus caught up with him.

“How do you know that?” Gus asked him curiously.

“I divined it psychically when meditating on the subject,” he said seriously. Gus just looked at him, waiting for a real answer. He sighed and pulled a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket. “I may also have printed out a map,” he said, handing it to Gus.

Gus opened the map and looked at it. “Says here the head of the other lab is a Dr. Lyle Pratt,” he said, pointing to the map. “We should probably ask him about Sanders.”

They turned the corner and stopped. Ahead of them the hallway was cordoned off with police tape. Curious students and a couple of members of the press were pressed up against the tape, watching the proceedings. Equipment littered the hallway. An officer was questioning a couple of guys in lab coats. Shawn could hear more activity from the open doorway to their right. He assumed it was Sanders' lab. Someone from forensics exited the room, carrying his workcase.

“Looks like forensics is finishing up,” Shawn said quietly to Gus. “Now is our time to investigate.” He ducked under the police tape. He gestured for Gus to follow him. Gus shook his head, pointing to the tape. Shawn gestured for him to duck under it. This lead to a furious if whispered argument between the two which ended with Gus staying firmly planted on the far side of the tape. Shawn shook his head and headed over to the lab. He peaked around the doorway. Lassiter was talking to a couple guys from forensics, back towards him. He was about to enter when he heard someone calling his name.

“Shawn!” Coming up to him was the 6' 5” form of Officer Buzz McNab. “I'm sorry,” he said, stopping Shawn from going any further. “But I can't let you into the crime scene.” He did look genuinely sorry.

Shawn clapped him on the shoulder. Well, more like his upper arm, as his shoulder was out of reach. “Buzz, buddy,” he said. “It's OK. The chief put us on the case.” He went to move around McNab.

McNab stopped him again. “Detective Lassiter gave me strict orders to not let you go unescorted into the crime scene. He doesn't want you to mess things up as usual,” He looked apologetically at Shawn. “His words, not mine.”

“Where's Jules? Can't she escort me?” Shawn asked, looking around for the blond detective.

“She's at a robbery scene downtown,” McNab explained. “We're short handed right now so the chief asked her to cover it while Lassiter checked out the school.” He frowned in thought. “I could see if one of the other officers would escort you.”

“That's OK. I have a backup escort,” Shawn said, pointing to Gus behind the police tape.

McNab hesitated. “I don't think that's what Lassiter had in mind. I could go ask him if that would be all right.” He started to enter the lab, presumably to look for Lassiter.

“That's OK,” Shawn said hurriedly, stopping him. “I wouldn't want to bother Lassiter right now. I know he's upset that Marlowe's parole has been delayed again.”

“Only a week,” McNab said, then paused. “How did you know that?” he asked, amazed. “I only found out by accident and Detective O'Hara said he wants it kept quiet.”

“I am a psychic,” Shawn reminded McNab. He put his hand to his head. “And I'm sensing the chief told Lassiter to wrap this case up quickly before the press gets wind it was murder.” He dropped his hand and leaned in conspiratorially. “Lassie's under a lot of stress. You know he could use some help,” he said, appealing to McNab's good nature.

“All right,” McNab said reluctantly, caving. “But don't tell Lassiter I was the one to let you in. I just got off of traffic duty.”

“Sure thing Buzz,” Shawn assured him. He watched McNab walk away before turning towards Gus. “Come on, we're in.”

Gus came over as he peaked around the doorway again. “How did you know about Marlowe's parole?” Gus asked.

Lassiter still had his back to him. He pointed to a doorway on the far side of the room then started walking towards it. Keeping an eye on Lassiter, Shawn whispered to Gus. “I saw a letter from the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitations on his desk yesterday. Jules said Marlowe was due to be paroled soon. Judging by his extra grumpiness lately, it seemed like a logical guess.” Lassiter entered the far room, taking the forensics guys with him. “Now's our chance.” He entered the room, Gus right behind him.

The lab looked like it had in the crime scene pictures, minus the dead body of course. What he hadn't noticed from the pictures was how clean the place was. Nothing was out of place. The counters looked freshly wiped down. Everything was put neatly away. Even the floor looked clean enough to eat off of. The only mess in the otherwise pristine lab was the table containing the late doctor's ill-fated experiment. This was going to make finding any clues difficult, even for him.

“We don't have a lot of time,” Gus said, eyeing the doorway Lassiter had walked through. “Let's hurry.”

“Agreed,” he said.

The two split up to examine as much of the lab as possible. Gus looked over the cabinets containing lab supplies. “This guy sure was a neat freak,” he said. He pulled out a box of pencils, which had a label saying 'pencils' on it. “You could learn something from him.”

Shawn meanwhile was examining the victim's last experiment. All the containers with any kind of chemical in it had been removed and tested. The rest of the equipment had been left as is on the table. He was looking for anything forensics may have missed. At Gus's comment he looked up. “The guy is dead Gus,” he said. “And I think he had an unnatural attachment to his label maker.” He went back to examining the table.

“I just think you could use a little more organization in your life,” Gus said, going over to Sanders' desk. He started looking through the drawers. “I don't even want to think about what I saw the last time I looked in your desk.” He pulled some papers out of one of the drawers. “I think I found something,” he said, studying one of the sheets. When Shawn didn't respond, he looked up. “Shawn?”

Shawn was too absorbed with a beaker to respond to Gus. More importantly, what was under the beaker. A single strand of gray hair stuck to the bottom of the beaker when Shawn picked it up. He looked up to tell Gus what he had found when he heard loud voices coming from the next room, getting closer. He quickly put the beaker back down and saw Gus shove something into his pocket.

Moments later Lassiter entered the lab followed by a man in a lab coat. He was tall, with graying hair, and seemed to be approximately the same age as the victim. He was berating Lassiter as he entered the room. “This is completely unacceptable,” he was saying. “I need to conduct my work.”

Shawn could see Lassiter was close to losing it as he responded. “This is a police investigation,” he said through clenched teeth. “That means this area remains off limits until our investigation is done. Including the supply room. You can conduct your little experiments later.” Turning, he noticed Shawn and Gus in the lab. “Spencer, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Little experiments?” the man said, enraged. “I am conducting important work. Work that will have more impact than any mere civil servant such as yourself could hope to achieve.”

Shawn could literally see the blood pounding through the veins on Lassiter's neck. Knowing Lassiter was about to let the guy have it, he jumped in. “I don't believe we've met,” he said, getting between the man and Lassiter. He held out his hand. “I am Shawn Spencer, head psychic at the SBPD.”

“Dr. Lyle Pratt,” he said, ignoring Shawn's hand. “And an educated man such as myself does not believe in psychics,” He turned to Lassiter. “I'm surprised the SBPD is gullible enough to buy into this farce.” He looked at Lassiter scathingly.

“He happens to be a valuable resource for the department who has helped solve dozens of cases,” Lassiter said, surprising Shawn. He didn't think Lassiter saw him as anything other than a nuisance. Then again, maybe he just found this man more annoying than Shawn. “Now, if you don't return to your lab I will have you arrested for hindering our investigation.” He glared at Pratt.

“I've wasted enough time here. See that your men clean out as soon as possible.” He turned and walked back into the far room.

Lassiter stood completely still in the center of the lab. Shawn wasn't even sure if he was breathing. “Hey Lassie?” he asked cautiously, edging closer to the detective. “Are you OK?” He looked over at Gus worriedly.

“Spencer,” Lassiter said through clenched teeth, “You have five seconds to leave this lab.”

Gus immediately started for the door but Shawn moved closer to Lassiter. “I can't do that,” he said. Gus grabbed his arm and tried to get him to leave. Shawn shook him off and continued. “You see, I had a vision – “

“I am ready to pull out my gun and shoot the next person that bothers me,” Lassiter said. Shawn had never heard him so serious. He glared at Shawn. “Leave. Now.”

Not liking the look on Lassiter's face, Shawn let Gus drag him from the room. They stood in the hallway for a moment, glancing surreptitiously at the lab.

“Dude, I think he really would have shot you,” Gus said finally. He glanced fearfully at the lab. “I've never seen him that angry.”

“I think you're right,” Shawn said, a little nervously. He pulled Gus further away from the door. “I found a gray hair under a beaker. I was going to do the whole 'psychic vision' thing but I don't think Lassie is in a receptive mood right now.” He looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to them. “What did you find?” he asked, turning back to Gus.

“I think its a list of students working in the lab,” Gus said, pulling out the paper. “One column says lab techs, the other post docs.”

“Post doc? Like a doctor for mail?” Shawn asked, confused.

“Post doctorate,” Gus explained. “After getting their doctorate many students spend time under an adviser to learn more about working in their field. Sanders must have been the advisor to these students,” he said, pointing to the list.

“Let's see if any of them are here,” Shawn said. He glanced around the hallway. He noticed the two guys who had been questioned by the police earlier. He pointed them out to Gus and headed over.

“Hi,” Shawn said, stopping in front of the guys. “I'm Shawn Spencer, head psychic for the SBPD. And this is my associate Winsome Losome.” He pointed to Gus. “We'd like to ask you a few questions.”

“I don't believe in psychics,” the guy on the right said. He was tall and gangly, with short cropped brown hair. His pasty complexion showed he spent nearly all of his time indoors. His outfit was immaculate, unusual for a student. Shawn noticed cat scratches on the back of his left hand.

“Be polite,” the other guy said, nudging him. He was shorter and heavier, with sandy blond hair. Unlike his friend, he sported a healthy tan complexion. “I'm Sam Cooper,” he said He gestured to his companion. “I'm sorry about Newton,” he said to Shawn. “He doesn't have well developed social skills.”

Newton looked at Shawn in disdain. “I don't believe in wasting my time. If you gentlemen will excuse me.” Without waiting for a response he walked away.

“Nice guy,” Shawn said. “Between him and Pratt it must be a barrel of laughs working here.”

“Oh, he's nowhere near as bad as Dr. Pratt,” Cooper said. “Newton doesn't intentionally insult you. He just thinks logically and without any emotion.” He shrugged. “You get used to it after awhile.”

“I'm sensing Dr. Pratt is not so well liked,” Shawn said. Judging by what they had already seen of the man, it was hard to imagine anyone liking him.

“Oh yeah, he's a grade A jerk,” Cooper said. “Especially with the budget cuts.” He glanced around quickly and lowered his voice. “Rumor is they need to close one of the labs down. Since Sanders and Pratt are performing similar research, it will likely be one of them.”

“Really?” Shawn said, looking at Gus. That sounded like motive to him. “Do tell us more.”

“Well I work as a tech for both labs,” Cooper said. “So I would see them arguing all time. The rivalry between them has been going on for years. It's only gotten worse since the rumors started.” He nervously tugged on the collar of his shirt. “You didn't hear it from me, but I think Pratt was sabotaging some of Sanders' experiments.” He tugged on his collar again, exposing a tattoo of a Chinese symbol.

“Nice ink,” Shawn said, momentarily distracted. “Though not many people get the word for soup tattooed on their neck. What?” he asked, as Gus shoved him.

“It doesn't say soup,” Cooper said irritably. He pulled on his shirt to cover the tattoo again. “It says courage.”

“Trust me,” Shawn said. “It says soup.” Gus shoved him again. “Dude, stop it.”

“You don't know what your talking about,” Gus whispered to Shawn. “Stop bothering the guy.”

“I worked in a restaurant in Chinatown for two weeks, Gus,” Shawn whispered back. “I think I know the symbol for soup.”

“And I think a smart guy getting a Chinese symbol tattooed on himself would have looked up its meaning,” Gus whispered angrily. “So drop it.”

“You drop it,” Shawn hissed back.

Cooper watched their argument with confusion. “If you don't need me anymore,” he said, interrupting them, “I'm just going to go back to work.” Looking confused and a little unnerved, he left them and entered Pratt's lab.

“Great,” Gus said, annoyed. “You scared him off.” He glared at Shawn.

“I scared him off?” Shawn asked incredulously. “You're the one who started it.”

“I did not,” Gus stated emphatically.

“Did too,” Shawn shot back.

Gus made as if to respond, then paused. “I'm not doing this,” he said, drawing himself up. “One of us has to be the bigger man.”

“Fine, I win then,” Shawn said with satisfaction. He walked off, back towards Sanders lab.

Gus pulled him to a stop. “Where are you going?” he asked. “Lassiter told us to stay out of there.”

“Please, Gus,” Shawn said. “When have I ever done what Lassiter has asked?” He started walking to the lab again. “Besides, I know who the killer is.”

“Who?” Gus asked. But Shawn was already inside the lab. “Shawn!” he called, following after his friend.

Lassiter was still inside, watching forensics do one final sweep of the lab. He seemed to have cooled down some but was not pleased to see Shawn. “I thought I told you to get out,” he said tersely.

Shawn held out his right hand. He started waving it around the room, as if trying to sense something. “Something drew me in here,” he said. He moved his hand over the cabinets and Sanders desk. He passed it briefly over Lassiter's face. Lassiter made a grab at his hand but he moved it away too quickly.

“Spencer, what is the point of this?” Lassiter asked, exasperated.

Shawn moved to Sanders' experiment. He made his hand tremble as he passed it over the table. “Oh, I feel it.” he said. “It's here. But it's trapped.” He started imitating _The Fly_. “ _Help me, Help me._ ” he said in a high pitched voice.

“Spencer,” Lassiter said, moving toward him.

Shawn dodged out of reach. “I'm sensing something small.” He started giggling and squirming. “And ticklish.” He dodged Lassiter again. “I'm getting bands, combs, maybe a comb-over,” he said with a smirk.

“Those are all things to do with hair,” Gus said, playing along.

“I'm also getting a color,” Shawn said. Lassiter was almost over to him so he rushed through the last bit, backing away quickly. “Old, but distinguished. A man just past his prime.” Lassiter caught up to him and grabbed his arm. He started dragging Shawn out of the lab.

“Gray,” Gus said.

At this Lassiter stopped. “A gray hair?” he asked, looking at Shawn.

“Yes!” Shawn said excitedly. “That is what I'm sensing. A gray hair, but trapped somehow.”

Lassiter gestured to one of the forensics guys. “Check that table again,” he ordered. “Look under everything to see if you find a gray hair.”

There was a couple of tense moments while they waited for the forensics guy to search the table. Then –

“I found something,” he said. He held up a beaker. A gray hair was stuck to the bottom. He pulled it off carefully with tweezers and stuck it in an evidence bag. Then he handed the bag to Lassiter.

Lassiter dropped Shawn's arm and took the bag. “Perfect,” he muttered quietly. “Now if only I had a motive to tie him to the murder.”

“If you mean Dr. Pratt,” Shawn asked, getting Lassiter's attention. “I'm sensing a rivalry between himself and Dr. Sanders.”

“Really?” Lassiter said, interested. “Do you sense anything that could be a motive?” He looked at Shawn intently.

Unnerved by Lassiter actually paying attention to his visions, Shawn stumbled over his next words. “I heard – I mean I sensed, when he was here.” Shawn stopped and took a deep breath. “I'm sensing the university was considering closing one of these two labs down,” he finished, only slightly lacking his usual confidence.

Lassiter smiled. Shawn had never seen anything so creepy. “That sounds like motive to me. Excuse me gentlemen.” He headed to the storage room and presumably to Pratt's lab.

Shawn looked over at Gus. “Dude, was that creepy or what?” he asked Gus shivering.

“Definitely creepy,” Gus agreed.

They heard loud voices coming through the doorway. Then a handcuffed Pratt came through being guided by a grinning Lassiter. “You can't do this to me,” Pratt was yelling. “I am a prominent scientist. Unhand me!”He struggled against his handcuffs.

“You're murdering scum,” Lassiter said, giving him a shake. He pushed Pratt passed Shawn towards the door. “Good work, Spencer,” he told Shawn as he passed.

Shawn looked at Gus, stunned. “Did he just say what I thought I heard him just say?” he asked in disbelief.

“If you mean did I hear him praise you, then yeah, I heard it too,” Gus said, shaking his head.

Shawn took a moment to try to wrap his head around it. “Nope, can't do it,” Shawn said. He pointed at Gus. “Carlton Lassiter has been replaced by a pod person.” He shivered. “We should go before one of us is next.” He headed out the door into the hallway.

Forensics was packing up the last of their gear. Lassiter and Pratt were already out of sight and the crowd of students was starting to disperse. Shawn saw a flash of a blue and brown hair for a second, but it was gone before he could get a better look.

“Where now?” Gus asked, diverting his attention.

“Jerk chicken?” Shawn asked with a grin.

“You know that's right,” Gus said.

The two headed back down the hallway to Gus's car, their only thoughts of food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think.


	3. Wednesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated the story summary to include when the story takes place in the season.
> 
> A note on chapter length; since each chapter is a separate day, chapter lengths will vary. This is one of the longer chapters.
> 
> I also apologize for Shawn and Gus in the first scene. They refused to talk about what I wanted them to talk about and instead kept going off on ridiculous tangents. I'll try to keep them in line next time.

_Wednesday_

 

“OK, sorry to bother you ma'am,” Shawn said loudly into the phone over the yelling. He was sitting at his desk in the Psych office, trying to track down Nikki's mother. Gus was sitting at his own desk, memorizing new asthma medications and being no help to Shawn whatsoever. Apparently he was serious when he said he was taking no part in this case.

Shawn hung up the phone and sighed. With the Sanders' case pretty much wrapped up, he had spent the rest of yesterday afternoon working on Nikki's case. He had been able to find out a little bit more about her but not much. Knowing Nikki was going to come back by the office today, he decided to go direct to the source for answers. Her mom obviously knew the identify of the father. All he had to do was track her down. He knew her name was Sarah; a fact he had discovered in his research. A fact Nikki had neglected to tell him, which made him all the more eager to meet this woman. Unfortunately none of the Sarah Petersons listed in the phone book for the Santa Barbara area was Nikki's mother. He had then widened his search to include most of Santa Barbara and Ventura counties. He had just finished calling the last name on the list.

“Not having any luck?” Gus asked, looking up from a pamphlet on Dupilumab.

In response he balled up his list and tossed it at the trash can. He missed. Sighing, he looked over at Gus. “What I could gather from all the yelling was that she suspected her daughter was dating behind her back and someone is in a lot of trouble when they get home, Unfortunately her daughter's name is Annabelle, not Nicole.” He opened a drawer and started digging through it. “So no, I'm not having any luck.” He slammed the drawer shut in frustration. “Did you eat all my red vines?”

“I don't touch your candy, Shawn. Not after the Snickers snafu of '07.” Gus shuddered at the memory.

“I could have sworn I had more in here,” he said, opening another drawer. He paused, staring into it. “Have you been messing with my magazines?” he asked accusingly, looking up.

“I haven't touched your magazines,” Gus said.

He gave Gus a disbelieving look before digging through the drawer. He pulled two magazines out and set them on the desk. “Someone has,” he said, closing the drawer and looking intently at Gus. “I always leave a copy of the New York Times sitting on top of the stack.” He held up the magazine in question by one corner. “That way it's easily accessible if there's a client I need to impress.” He put it down and picked up the other magazine. “Someone,” and here he glared at Gus, “left last month's _People_ magazine on top.” He shook the magazine at Gus.

“Dude, for the last time, I didn't touch your stuff,” Gus said, getting annoyed. His look turned to one of confusion as Shawn put the magazine down and pulled a fingerprinting kit out of another drawer.

“We'll just see who's guilty after I dust for prints,” he said. He had bought the kit just for this purpose. Although 'bought' may not be the right word, he mused as he opened the kit. Actually, he had found the kit in his father's attic while looking for his old Thundercats. Maybe it was better to say 'liberated,' as in he 'liberated' it from his father's house without his knowledge. Either way, it was his now and he had been waiting for the right time to test it out.

He laid the two magazines side by side. Very gently, he brushed the powder over the covers of both magazines, then blew it off just as carefully. The New York Times only yielded a couple of smudges. But the People magazine was covered in clear markings. He could make out two distinct sets of prints. He used lifting tape to pull two prints and secure them to separate white index cards. One card he glanced at and tossed, recognizing his own print. The other card he compared to a copy of Gus's fingerprints (which he had 'liberated' from the police station). They didn't match.

“Well, the good news is, you're off the hook,” he said, looking at Gus. “The fingerprints don't match.” He grinned sheepishly.

“I told you,” Gus said, looking smug. Shawn saw him pause as the rest of what he said sunk in. “What do you mean good news?” he asked, eyes narrowing. “What's the bad news?”

“The bad news is that someone still went through my desk,” Shawn said. He held up the index card. “This print doesn't match either of ours. Someone came in and moved the magazines around in my desk.” He carefully placed the card down and pouted at Gus. “They also ate all my candy,” he whined.

“So someone was really in here last night,” Gus said, focusing on the important details. Not that stolen candy was unimportant. Just unimportant to Gus. After all, Shawn thought childishly, it wasn't his candy that was stolen.

Gus started looking around the office worriedly. “What else did they take?” He got up and went over to the DVDs and started looking through them.

“Relax, nothing was taken,” Shawn said reassuringly. “I didn't notice anything different in here until I looked in my desk.”

“My desk!” Gus explained. Shawn rolled his eyes as Gus ran across the room. He pulled open a drawer and started riffling through it. Shawn got up and went over to get a better view.

“How are you going to know if something was moved if you dig through it like that?” he asked in amusement. Gus was throwing most of the contents of the drawer to the floor. Papers scattered everywhere. A box of paper clips burst open when it hit the ground. A marble bounced out and rolled away under the couch. “What are you so worried about?”

“I keep an emergency stash of money hidden in this drawer, Shawn,” Gus said, pushing more papers on the floor. “What if the intruder found it?”

“Relax,” he said. “They would have to reach all the way to the back of the drawer and twist the secret panel 90 degrees counterclockwise while simultaneously pressing the hidden button on the outside of the desk. They would never figure that out.” Gus stopped digging through the drawer and turned to glare at him. “If you keep making that face it will stick that way,” he said, grinning back at Gus.

“How do you know that?” Gus asked. “Never mind,” he said before Shawn could answer. “The money better still all be there.” He started putting the papers back in the drawer.

“Of course it is,” Shawn said reassuringly. “All $582 of it. Besides,” he said as Gus muttered in annoyance about 'fake psychics' and 'deadbeat friends' “I never steal from you.”

“You steal from me all the time, Shawn,” Gus said. He put the last of the papers away and slammed the drawer. “You're the one who steals _my_ candy. I have a separate stash just for you now.”

“OK, let me rephrase that.” he said, tacitly acknowledging his candy thievery. “I never steal _money_ from you.”

“What about my credit card?” Gus asked. “You steal that all the time. That's why I keep having to replace them.”

“First of all, I 'borrow' your credit card,” he explained. “Secondly, it's a credit card, not money. And thirdly, I always help pay the bills. I don't see why you keep getting new cards. Do you really need another Venture card?”

“You get free miles for signing up – .” Gus paused, looking at him. “How do you know I have a new Venture card?” He pulled out his wallet and started looking through it.

“Lucky guess?” Shawn said, mentally hitting himself on the head. Why hadn't he slipped Gus's credit card back last night like he had planned?

Gus pocketed his wallet and glared at him. “Where is it Shawn?” he asked in an eerily calm voice.

“I have it right here,” he said, pulling out his wallet. He slipped out Gus's credit card and handed it to him. “See, nothing to worry about.” He gave Gus a reassuring grin.

Gus grabbed it from him, “You better not have used it,” he said, sitting at his desk.

“Of course not,” Shawn said, pretending to be insulted. “I only use your credit card for emergencies.” He slipped his wallet back into his pocket.

“Like the romantic weekend with Juliet?” Gus asked. He sat down at his desk and turned on his computer.

“That romantic weekend was as much for you as it was for me,” he argued. “You said you wanted some 'Gus time.' I was just respecting your wishes.” He thought back to the events of that weekend. A couple had robbed their room, then been accused of murder. “Besides, we ended up working a case. That weekend practically paid for itself.”

“How about the 300 lbs of kangaroo paste?” Gus asked.

“That was an emergency,” he explained. “My hair was completely flat and without style. That paste saved it.” Gus snorted, which he decided to interpret as a comment on how his hair looked before the paste. “Dude, this morning blows. Let's go get some smoothies.”

“In a minute,” Gus said. He was staring intently at his computer screen.

“Since when do you pass up smoothies?” he asked. He came around Gus's desk. “What are you doing?” he asked, trying to peer at the screen.

“I'm checking the transactions on my credit card,” Gus said. “I'd rather know how much you spent now then wait for the bill and be surprised.” He started clicking away at the screen.

“Why worry now when you can worry later?” Shawn asked quickly. He'd rather wait for Gus to get the bill before he yelled at Shawn. That would give him time to plan a counterargument. Or flee the country. “Come on, let's get those smoothies.” He grabbed Gus's arm and tried to pull him out of the chair.

“Let go Shawn!” Gus said, breaking free. “We can get smoothies after I check. And you're paying.”

“I believe it's your turn to pay,” he said, momentarily distracted. “I paid the last time,”

“No,” Gus said, not looking up. “You pretended to forget your wallet so I had to pay. It's your turn.”

“Agree to disagree,” he said. He watched warily as Gus peered at the screen.

“Well, that's not as bad as I thought. You only used the card twice,” Gus said, causing Shawn to relax. Luckily the charge for the new air hockey table hadn't gone through yet. Gus did some typing, then looked up at Shawn. “How did you manage to spend $115 dollars at a diner?” he asked in bewilderment.

“I was really hungry,” he said hurriedly. “How about those smoothies?” He sighed as Gus looked back at the screen.

“There's also a charge on here from Smoothie Shack,” Gus said, pointing at his computer. “The charge is for two smoothies.” He looked suspiciously at Shawn. “Who were you with yesterday?”

“Who says I didn't drink both smoothies myself?” he asked defensively.

“You only had one when you came into the office,” Gus said. “Besides, you never get two. The second one gets all melty by the time you finish the first.” He crossed his arms and stared at Shawn. “What are you hiding?”

He hated when Gus got all detectivey. Resigned to the fact the conversation couldn't be postponed, he crossed the room and sat at his desk. The distance would be better in case Gus tried to hit him. “I may have taken someone out to breakfast,” he said slowly. “Someone who apparently has a endless pit for a stomach.”

“Does this someone have a name?” Gus asked.

“Don't be silly Gus,” he said evasively. “Of course she does. Everyone has a name.”

“Shawn,” Gus said sternly. He gave Shawn the Look.

“Ok,” he said after a minute. He could never stand up to the Look. “It was Nikki.”

It took Gus a second to place the name. “Nikki, as in Nikki the girl who wants us to find her father?” Gus asked in surprise. “How did you end up buying breakfast for her?”

“I don't know,” he whined. “She came by to see how the case was coming. I asked some questions. She ate my bag of Doritos. I was hungry. Somehow we ended up at the diner where she proceeded to eat her own weight in food.” He thought back, trying to figure out how exactly she had convinced him to buy breakfast. “I think it's the way she talks,” he said after a moment. “She talks so fast it creates a wall of sound that incapacitates her targets.” He looked at Gus excitedly. “Dude, she's like a super hero!”

“I told you she would be trouble, Shawn,” Gus said. He had his smug 'I told you so' face on.

He picked up the index card. Fiddling with it, he sat there for a minute, thinking. Gus had said he didn't want to get involved in the case. But that was just when it was a missing person's case. Shawn was starting to feel that something more was going on. “I think she's in trouble,” he said, staring at the wall. Feeling Gus's questioning look, he continued. “Something is going on with her mom. She tenses up anytime you mention her. When I bought her breakfast yesterday she acted like it was the first real food she's had in weeks. And she's worried about us going to the police.” He finally risked a glance over at Gus. “What do you think?” he asked. He continued to fiddle nervously with the card as he waited for an answer.

Gus slowly closed his laptop and turned to face Shawn. “I think you might be right,” he said. “You need to go to the police.”

“But she specifically asked us not to go to the police,” he reminded Gus. “She was very clear about that.”

“All the more reason you should,” Gus said emphatically. “You said yourself she's hiding something. And you couldn't find her mom within a 100 miles of here. Maybe she's a runaway. Or maybe,” he said, lowering his voice, “Nikki isn't even her real name.” He leaned back and nodded mysteriously.

“Of course it's her real name,” he scoffed. Gus was starting to sound paranoid. “Otherwise how would she expect me to find her father?” He looked at Gus triumphantly.

“Think about it Shawn,” Gus said, still talking in a low voice. “It's all a ruse. You haven't been able to find any information on her. Why? Because she gave you a fake name. She's probably been playing you from the start.” He was starting to get agitated. Shawn knew he needed to stop this rant now before Gus became completely irrational.

“Gus,” he said calmly. But Gus was too wound up in his theories to hear him.

“Maybe someone hired her to find out if you're really psychic,” Gus said. He looked worriedly at Shawn. “Has she been asking you questions about how your psychic abilities work? Has she let slip any leading hints implying she thinks you're not really psychic?”

“Gus – “ Shawn started, before Gus cut him off again.

“Or maybe she's part of a gang of thieves,” Gus said, abandoning his earlier theory. He got up from his desk and came to stand in front of Shawn. “And she's casing out the joint so they can come back and rob us later.” He pointed to the index card still in Shawn's hand. “Maybe that's her fingerprint.”

“Gus, don't you think your overreacting a little?” he asked, finally able to get a word in. “All I did was buy her breakfast.” He decided not to mention the fact that Nikki _had_ questioned his psychicness. It was just curiosity. Nothing else.

“That's how it starts with con artists,” Gus said knowingly. “They get on your good side, gain your trust. Then three days later we come in to find the office cleaned out and the headline 'Local Psychic a Fake.'”

“Do you hear yourself right now?” he asked incredulously. This was a little extreme, even for Gus. “She was just hungry, She was not trying to con me.” He held up the index card. “This is not her fingerprint.”

“You don't know that for sure,” Gus stated stubbornly.

“Fine, if it will make you happy, I'll have Jules run the print,” he snapped. He was not used to being the logical one in the argument. He didn't like it. He took out his wallet and slipped the index card inside. Putting his wallet away, he said, “She's not a con artist.”

“Who's not a con artist?”

He jumped. Turning, he saw Nikki standing in the doorway. She was wearing what looked to be the same ripped jeans of the past two days and a plain black t-shirt. Gus threw him a disgruntled look and went back to sit at his desk.

She came into the room and stood near his desk. “Who's not a con artist?” she repeated.

He didn't think Nikki would appreciate being called a con artist, so he said the first thing to pop into his head. “Kate from _Lost._ ” He heard Gus snort behind him. Ignoring it, he said “I think she was just trying to find her way out of a bad situation.” He looked pointedly at Gus.

“Well, I think it was her own fault she was in that bad situation in the first place,” Gus replied, staring right back.

“Maybe she just made a few mistakes,” he shot at Gus.

“Maybe they weren't mistakes,” Gus shot back.

The two stared at each other across the office, neither willing to give in. Nikki looked back and forth between them with confusion.

“Wasn't Kate on the run because she killed her stepfather?” she asked. When both men turned to look at her, she blushed and said quietly “Maybe I remembered it wrong.”

“You're absolutely right,” Shawn said, recovering quicker than Gus. “She did put herself in that situation. In that respect Gus was right. But she only lied to get away from her past, like I said. So we were both right.” He looked over at Gus and said carefully, “No need to discuss this anymore, right?”

“For now, Shawn,” Gus compromised. He eyed Nikki suspiciously.

“OK,” she said slowly, still looking confused. “Do you have anything to drink?”

“Soda and juice in the fridge,” he said, pointing out the fridge in the corner. As she headed over to it, he got up and walked around to the front of his desk. “Dude, knock it off,” he whispered to Gus.

“I don't trust her Shawn,” Gus whispered back.

“She's not a con artist,” he said, watching her dig through the fridge.

“Then prove it,” Gus retorted. “Ask her about her mom.”

“What?” he asked, a little too loudly. Gus shushed him as Nikki looked back over at them. He gave a little wave. She returned it hesitantly and went back to looking through the fridge.

“You said she was hiding something about her mom,” Gus said, making sure to keep his voice low. “So ask her about it.”

“I can't just ask her about it,” he exclaimed softly. He saw her straighten up, examining a can of soda in her hand.

“If you don't I will,” Gus said with finality.

“Fine,” he snapped, as she closed the fridge and headed back over to them.

“What are you guys whispering about?” she asked, cracking open the soda.

“Ninjas,” he said quickly. She just rolled her eyes. He debated how to ask Nikki about her mother. Slowly ease into the subject? Or just ask her outright? He could see Gus urging him on over Nikki's shoulder. She glanced behind her, only to see Gus casually reading a pamphlet on Xolair. Turning back, she looked at him quizzically. He shrugged and leaned against his desk. Going for the outright approach, he asked, “So how's Sarah?”

He couldn't have had better timing. Nikki had just taken a gulp of her soda and immediately started choking on it. He leaped in to grab the can from her flailing hand before it went flying. He glanced worriedly at Gus, wondering if he should do something. Gus didn't seem too concerned. He nodded at Nikki and raised an eyebrow. He obviously thought her reaction proved he was right about her. He ignored Gus for now, watching Nikki carefully. She had finally stopped coughing and was trying to catch her breath. He noticed now how pale she had become. Since most people turned red when choking, he assumed it was from the shock of his question. Or fear of him learning something she didn't want him to know. He wondered what was so bad that the mention of her mom would scare her this much. When she was breathing normally again, he handed gave her back the soda.

“Thanks,” she said, voice raspy. She took a few sips to clear her throat, pausing between each one to make sure it wouldn't trigger another coughing fit. Noticing Shawn and Gus watching her, she said quickly, “It's just went down the wrong pipe. I'm fine.” She cleared her throat, then looked warily at Shawn. “How did you find out my mom's name?”

“The spirits came across it while looking for information about you,” he said. He knew this was a delicate subject and used the psychic charade as a sort of buffer between them.

“Did they tell you anything else?” she asked. He could hear a slight tremble in her voice.

“No, just her name,” he said. He saw her visibly relax at the news. He glanced at Gus, who nodded. He had noticed it too.

She took a deep, steadying breath. “So, any news on my father?” she asked, changing the subject. She was trying to keep her tone light, but he could still hear a slight tremble in her voice. He had obviously upset Nikki by asking about her mother. He made a mental note to look more in-depth into her mother later. Something was definitely going on.

“Not yet,” he said, adopting the same light tone. He could see the disappointment on her face. “But I'm getting closer. I'm sure I'll find him soon,” he said reassuringly.

“It's fine,” she said with a sigh. “But if I'm going to be waiting around, maybe I can help out.” She walked behind Shawn's desk, sat in his chair and propped up her feet. He raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Her spunkiness was refreshing and he was curious to hear what she had to say. “Did you figure out who killed Sanders yet?” she asked.

“You told her about the case?” Gus said accusingly.

“Of course I didn't tell her about the case,” he said scornfully. “I never discuss open police cases. That would be unethical.”

“You tell the woman at the coffee shop about your cases all the time,” Gus pointed out.

“She's eighty-two,” he explained. “Everyone knows old people don't count.” He gave Gus a pitying look for not knowing this common fact.

“It's still talking about the case,” Gus argued.

“Fine,” he said, conceding the point. He crossed his arms and looked stubbornly at Gus. “But it doesn't mean I told Nikki.”

“Then how does she know about the case?” Gus asked, sounding smug.

“She figured it out on her own,” he said. He turned to give Nikki a grin. “It was rather impressive.”

“You really expect me to believe that a 15 year old girl figured out not only that we had a case but the details of the case? Gus asked incredulously. “Without you saying anything?”

“Shawn's telling the truth,” Nikki said. Gus looked doubtfully at her. “I did figure it out on my own.” She smirked at him. “Not bad for a 15 year old, huh?”

“How exactly did you figure it out?” Gus asked suspiciously.

“Where's the mystery if I just tell you?” she said, pouting. She looked at Shawn. “So what happened? I heard someone got arrested.” She seemed eager to hear about the case.

“Someone did,” he said. “Dr. Lyle Pratt.”

“Really?” She seemed surprised at Pratt's arrest. “Are you sure it was him?” she asked doubtfully.

“Positive,” he said confidently. “Pratt and Sanders have been rivals for years. They were always fighting for grants because they were doing similar research. Pratt was even sabotaging Sanders' experiments. Now the school is planning on closing one of their labs down. We believe Pratt killed Sanders' in order to keep his lab.” It was a short wrap-up, but it was an open and shut case.

“What about his job offer?” she asked.

“What job offer?” he asked, perplexed.

“You're the psychic, shouldn't you already know?” she asked mockingly.

“Sometimes my psychic channels get blocked, letting key pieces of information elude me,” he said. It was his favorite excuse to use for the Chief when he had missed some vital clue. Although she never really seemed to buy it.

“Yeah, sure,” Nikki said. She didn't seem to buy it either. She put down her soda and pulled an envelope out of her pocket. She handed it to him.

He looked at the envelope. “A phone bill?” he asked skeptically.

“Look inside,” she said. She picked up her soda again and took a sip.

He pulled out the contents of the envelope and unfolded them. “It's still a phone bill,” he said. This was starting to feel like a joke.

She sighed. “Flip the page.”

“OK,” he said with a sigh. He flipped the first page. He stared for a minute, frowning.

“What is it?” Gus asked. He got up and came around his desk to have a look.

He handed Gus the paper. “It seems Pratt was offered a job by the Department of Defense,” he said as Gus glanced over the letter. “Six figure salary, full funding for all his projects. With such a sweet deal on the table, he had no reason to kill Sanders.” And he had missed it. He better up his game before he missed anything else. He turned to face Nikki. “Where did you find this?”

“Pratt's desk,” she said. “After the police arrested him, I snuck into his office to have a look around.” She pointed to the letter. “I found that in his desk drawer. I used to hide letters the same way.”

He recalled the glimpse of someone in blue with brown hair he had seen at the school yesterday. Nikki must have followed them, then stuck around to do some snooping. He couldn't really blame her. He often did the same himself.

“So what are we going to do now?” she asked. She looked expectantly at him and Gus as she drank her soda.

“ _We_ are not going to do anything,” Gus said, circling the three of them with his finger. “You,” he pointed to Nikki, “are leaving while we” he gestured to himself and Shawn, “try to find out who the killer is.”

“Come on, I can help,” Nikki pleaded. She looked at Shawn. “I did find the letter.”

“She does have a point,” he said to Gus.

“No, Shawn,” Gus said sternly. “Besides, how can we explain who she is to the police?”

“I can pretend to be a psychic,” Nikki said. “I know how Shawn does it, so I bet I can fake it just as well.”

“Fake it?” Gus asked. He turned angrily to Shawn. “You told her?”

“OK Nikki, time to go,” he said quickly. He walked around the desk and yanked her out of his chair. He grabbed the now empty soda can from her and threw it at the wastebasket. He missed. “I'll just walk you out,” he said, ushering her from the room. He could feel Gus's angry stare burning into his shoulder blades.

He steered Nikki quickly towards the door. A little too quickly; she tripped over a stuffed pineapple on the floor and fell into him. He managed to catch her before she hit the floor. “Sorry,” he said, setting her back on her feet. He kicked the pineapple out of the way. “You ok?”

“I'm fine,” she said, adjusting her clothes. “Any more surprise fruit I should worry about?” she joked.

He checked the path from there to the door. “All clear,” he said. They made it to the door without incident. He let Nikki through first, following her out and shutting the door behind him.

“What was all that about?” she asked, turning to face him. “Why did you rush me out of there so fast?”

“Gus tends to worry when anyone figures out my secret,” he said, checking to make sure Gus wasn't peeking through the blinds. “Especially when that person is an underage kid we met two days ago and know nothing about.” Satisfied Gus wasn't around, he leaned back against the door. “It's best to give him some time to cool off.”

“Tell Gus not to worry,” she said breezily. “I won't tell anyone.” She gave a snort. “I doubt anyone would believe me anyway.”

“You'd be surprised,” he said. He knew of one headstrong detective in particular who would be fascinated by what she could tell him. He crossed his arms, looking at her carefully. “I noticed you didn't just say I was a fake psychic. You said you knew how I do it.” Several people had known he was a fake, yet no one had ever claimed to know the real secret behind his gift.

“I just thought about how I would do it if I was in your place,” she said. “It couldn't be simple detective work, or the other cops would have figured out how you do it already. Then I realized we have the same gift.” She closed her eyes, brow furrowed in concentration. “On Gus's desk, there is a medical dictionary to the left and a laptop to the right. A pile of pamphlets for what looks like asthma medication lies in the center of the desk; I'm not even going to try to pronounce the names of the drugs. Under that is a large calendar. Friday's date is circled but nothing is written there. There is another calendar in front of the dictionary. Two blue tickets are sticking out from under it. I can make out the word 'planet' on it. Next to that is a container of pencils, a nameplate, a box of tissues, and a stuffed frog.” She opened her eyes and looked at Shawn. “How'd I do?”  
“Perfect,” Shawn said, causing Nikki to grin widely. He had never come across a person with his near perfect recall before. His dad came close, but only after years of looking for clues while on the force. This girl could put even Henry Spencer to shame. He had the stray thought of introducing her to his dad, just to see what would happen.

“Since I'll be hanging around for awhile, how about making me your fake psychic apprentice?” she said in a playful tone. He couldn't tell if she was serious or not. It would be nice to work with someone who saw things the way he did. And she had already proven valuable on the case.

“Love the idea, just one problem,” he said regretfully. “Gus has trust issues. He even keeps his candy locked in a desk drawer so no one steals it.” He could imagine Gus's reaction if he suggested Nikki start helping them out on cases.

“As long as it's not red vines, he has nothing to worry about,” she said blithely. She started walking down the boardwalk. Right before she reached the end of the block, she looked back and shouted, “At least think about it.” Then she turned the corner and was gone.

_Red vines huh._ Maybe Gus wasn't that far off, thinking Nikki had broken into the office. He decided to keep the observation to himself for the time being. No reason to upset Gus any further.

Going back inside the office, he saw Gus sitting at his desk. “I don't trust her,” he said as soon as he entered the room.

Shawn sat at his desk and sighed. “You've already made that abundantly clear,” he said, pulling a yellow legal pad toward him. He quickly started jotting things down.

“And now she knows your secret,” Gus said. He glared angrily at him. “What were you thinking, telling her that?”

“I didn't tell her,” he said. He kept his focus on the pad, not looking at Gus.

“Oh, and I suppose she just figured out that on her own too,” Gus said sarcastically.

“Yes, she did.” Glancing up, he met Gus's disbelieving look. “She has a photographic memory.”

“Really?” Gus asked, still not believing him.

“While we were outside, she was able to recite every item on your desk. Including tickets for the new planetarium exhibit opening Friday.” Gus frantically dug around on his desk. “Under the calendar.” Gus grabbed the offending tickets and put them away in a drawer. “Really, Gus? The planetarium? That's your idea of a big date for Rachel?” He tsked at Gus, disappointed.

“So, what you're saying,” Gus said, changing the subject. “Is that she's like you.”

“Please,” he scoffed. “No one's like me. She just uses details she remembers about the scene to recreate what happened.” He paused, thinking about what he just said. “OK, somewhat like me,” he amended.

“So that's what you were talking about outside?” Gus pressed.

“Pretty much,” he said, focusing once again on the pad. He circled something, then sat contemplating what he had written.

“Pretty much?” Gus asked suspiciously. “What else did you talk about?” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you hiding something?” He looked intently at him.

“Me? Hiding something from you?” he asked, sounding hurt. “When do I ever keep secrets from you?” Seeing Gus about to open his mouth, he stopped him. “Don't answer that.” He fiddled with his pen, as Gus continued to stare at him. “OK, she may have said something else.” He took a deep breath. “She wants to be my fake psychic apprentice and I think she may have been the one to break into the office last night,” he said in a rush. He figured it was better to get the news out quickly, like ripping off a band aid.

Gus just sat there silently for a minute, absorbing the news. “We need to go to the police,” he said finally.

“All right,” he said, throwing down the legal pad. “Let's go.” He got up and started heading for the door.

“Wait a minute,” Gus said, causing him to stop. He turned to look at Gus as he continued. “I thought you didn't want to turn her in.”

“I don't,” he said. “But if she's right about Pratt, there's a killer on the loose. Since the only evidence the police have points to Pratt, I'm betting he was framed. Talking to him is our best chance of finding out who the killer is.” He grabbed the legal pad and handed it to Gus. On it was two lists; did it and didn't do it. The did it list was significantly longer. At the bottom the word 'framed' was circled.

“I still think we should turn Nikki in,” Gus said, handing back the pad.

“Dude, give it a rest,” he said with a sigh. He turned and headed out the door.

Gus followed after him. “I'm not letting this go, Shawn,” he said. He made sure to lock the door behind him.

* * *

 

True to his word, Gus didn't let it go. He spent the entire drive to the police station trying to convince Shawn to turn Nikki in. Gus's arguing strategy had two stages. Stage 1 was trying to convince the victim (ie. Shawn) through logic that Gus was right. Since he had tried that at the office and failed, he was now on Stage 2; list all the reasons he was right until the victim (ie. Shawn) gave in. Since Stage 2 required very little input on his part, he tuned Gus out. Instead he used the ride to think about Nikki. He wasn't too worried about her breaking into the office. She hadn't taken anything valuable, just eaten some candy and read a magazine or two. While Gus may not agree, it all seemed harmless to him. What was more worrying was Nikki's reaction to any mention of her mom. She hadn't asked if he had talked to her. Rather, she asked what Shawn had found out about her mom. That, combined with all the other little things he had picked up over the last two days, made him wonder if he _should_ get the police involved.

“Reason 7,” Gus was saying. “If Nikki cons us, it proves your not psychic. What psychic wouldn't pick up on a conman, or woman? Then we'll end up in prison for defrauding the police. And I'm not going to prison.” He glared at Shawn.

“We're not going to prison,” he said wearily. Gus just shook his head and moved on to the next reason on the list. He let his mind drift back to Nikki. She hadn't done anything criminal yet. Until he found out more or something changed, he decided to wait before bringing her to the attention of the police.

Gus was still arguing as they walked into the police station. “Reason 23,” he said as they stopped in the middle of the station. “If we are robbed, our insurance goes up. We can barely afford it as it is. We should turn Nikki in before that happens.” He seemed to finally notice Shawn's inattention. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Not even a little,” Shawn said. He was scanning the station, looking for Juliet. He finally spotted her coming up the stairs from the interrogation rooms, arms full of files. He waved until she spotted them.

“You have to tell her about Nikki,” Gus said quietly as Juliet headed towards them.

“I'm not telling her,” he said irritably.

“Dude, you have to,” Gus said, voice dropping to a whisper.

“I'm not telling her,” he hissed to Gus.

Juliet was almost up to them. Gus leaned in close to his ear. “Tell her,” he whispered slowly.

“Dude!” he exclaimed, pushing Gus away. “Stop spitting in my ear.” He tried to use the edge of his shirt to wipe his ear clean.

“Hey guys,” Juliet said. She watched him contort his body trying to wipe his ear. “Are you ok?” she asked worriedly.

“I'm fine,” he said, dropping the edge of his shirt. He gave Gus a glare before turning a smile on the detective. “And how is my lovely Juliet today?”

“Swamped,” she huffed, brushing her hair back from her face. “I have six cases, including the robbery downtown yesterday.” She eyed him hopefully. “You didn't have any visions about the robbery, did you?”

“Sorry Jules,” he said with a shrug.

“It's ok,” she said with a sigh. “I know you can't control what visions you have.” He hated disappointing her, but between finding Sanders' killer and tracking down Nikki's mom, he hadn't had time for anything else.

Gus leaned over to him again. “Tell her,” he whispered again, though thankfully not in his ear. He elbowed Gus in the side.

“Tell me what?” Juliet asked, looking from him to Gus.

“How lovely you look today,” he said, throwing Gus a quick glare. “And that I have some new information on the Sanders case.” He put his hand to his head as he said, “I'm getting a strong feeling Pratt is not our killer.”

“Really?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because last night you said anyone that looks like Jonathan Stryker had to be the killer.”

“I realized he looks more like Dean Wormer,” he said.

“Weren't both characters played by the same actor?” Gus asked. “And wasn't Jonathan Stryker a victim, not the killer?”

“Exactly,” he said. “Which is why my psychic cross-hairs were tangled. That makes Pratt an ass, but not a murderer.” He looked at Juliet. “We just need to talk to Pratt. I'll prove I'm right.”

“Lassiter just brought him into Interrogation Room B,” she said. The guys tried to walk towards the stairs when she stopped them. “But I should warn you. He's not going to let you talk to Pratt.”

“Jules, Lassie loves us,” he said. Next to him Gus rolled his eyes. “What makes you think he won't let us talk to Pratt?”

“Because he said he doesn't want you talking to Pratt,” Juliet replied. “He doesn't want you to muck up the case. His words, not mine,” she added defensively at his look.

“Muck up? Really?” he asked incredulously. “Who says 'muck up' anymore?” He turned to Gus. “Someone please get Lassie to use slang from the 20th century.”

“It's the 21st century, Shawn,” Gus said.

“Really?” he asked, confused. “Since when?”

“Since 13 years ago,” Gus said with exasperation.

He thought about it a minute. “Did we win Y2K?” he asked finally.

Gus elbowed him. “Focus Shawn.”

He turned back to Juliet. She was used to his exchanges with Gus and didn't seem phased by the random segways. “Jules, sweety. Do you think you can get us in to see Pratt?” He gave her his most pleading, puppy dog look.

Unfortunately, constant exposure had made Juliet immune to his look. “Sorry Shawn,” she said. “But I'm too busy to arbitrate between you and Lassiter. If you want to talk to Pratt, you're on your own.” She turned and headed to her desk.

“What are we going to do now?” Gus asked.

“Plan B,” he said with a grin. He went down the stairs Juliet had just come up, heading for the interrogation rooms. 

* * *

 

Lassiter stood in Interrogation Room B, glaring at Pratt. He liked to start every interrogation with a steady, unwavering glare. He'd had perps break on the glare alone. It always left them feeling nervous, unsettled, maybe frightened. However, Pratt seemed to be made of sterner stuff. He had been glaring for five minutes already and Pratt hadn't so much as bated an eyelash. What had started as an intimidation technique had turned into a battle of wills between himself and the suspect. Neither man was willing to back down. The tension was mounting and eventually something had to give.

“As much fun as it is watching you two gaze into each other's eyes, perhaps Detective Lassiter should ask a question.” Spencer's voice rang out in the silent room, causing both him and Pratt to jump.

“Spencer!” he yelled, glaring at the two-way mirror. He couldn't see the annoying psychic but he knew he was there. Probably making faces at him too. “This is an official interrogation. Quit interfering.”

“How can I interfere in an interrogation if you aren't actually interrogating him?” Spencer said. “Unless you were planning on wooing him with your baby blues to get him to confess.” He could hear the smirk in Spencer's voice.

He heard a snort behind him. Turning, he saw Pratt sitting there with a smirk on his own face. “Boyfriend trouble?” he asked snidely.

He could feel his control of the situation slipping. He had to get rid of Spencer before this whole thing got out of hand. “Excuse me for a minute,” he said to Pratt through clenched teeth.

“Take your time,” Pratt said loftily. “I was growing bored anyway.”

Growling under his breath, he exited the interrogation room. He took a minute to compose himself in the hallway. He would not let Spencer see how much this was getting to him. When he felt calmer, he opened the door to the observation room.

Spencer and Guster were standing at the window, looking at Pratt. Spencer turned as he entered the room. “I don't think you have a chance with him,” he said. “He's way out of your league.”

“Spencer, what are you doing here?” he asked, trying to stay calm.

“Here in this room? The station? This town? Really, Lassie, you need to be more specific,” Spencer said with a grin.

“Spencer,” he growled, his temper rising once more.

“I have a strong feeling Pratt is not our killer,” Spencer said,

“He had motive, means, and opportunity,” he said stated. “Plus his fingerprints were on the murder weapon.”

“Come on, I can prove it,” Spencer said, practically whining. “Just give me five minutes with him.”

“Absolutely not,” he said.

“Pretty please with ice cream on top?” Spencer wheedled.

“No Spencer,” he said firmly.

“OK,” Spencer said, suddenly withdrawing. “That's fine.”

“That's fine?” he asked, suddenly suspicious. He never gave in that easily.

“If you don't want me to talk to Pratt, there's nothing I can do,” Spencer said. He sounded oddly innocent, which made Lassiter even more worried. Spencer looked around the room, not looking him in the face. “I guess I can go back upstairs and talk to Jules. We can talk about Val Kilmer, John Landis films. Or,” Spencer said, eyeing him directly, “tap dancing.”

“Tap dancing?” He tried to keep calm. After Guster had taught him some tap moves during a case, he had found tap oddly relaxing. He had started taking tap lessons in an effort to control his anger. However, he had been very secretive about it. He had signed up under a false name and never took the same route to the studio. There was no way Spencer knew.

“Tap dancing,” Spencer confirmed. “Specifically the Tuesday night class at Dance Unlimited.” His mouth went dry as Spencer grinned at him. “I hear someone is getting good.”

“No one would believe you,” he said weakly. He knew this was a lie; everyone believed whatever ridiculous thing the psychic said. But as long as Spencer didn't have proof, he could still deny it.

“I have pictures,” Spencer said, shattering his hopes.

He wanted to wring Spencer's neck but knew it was a bad idea. Guster was standing right there and someone was bound to hear the commotion. “Five minutes?” he asked, giving in to Spencer's request reluctantly.

“That's all I'll need,” Spencer said. He patted Lassiter on the shoulder and left the room.

“Tap lessons?” Guster asked, looking over at him.

“I find it relaxing,” he said grudgingly. Guster at least was one person who wouldn't tease him about the tap classes.

“If you ever need someone to practice with –“

“Stop talking,” he said groaned. He could feel a headache coming on, the kind he only seemed to get whenever Spencer was around. At least Guster would stay quiet. Unlike his friend, he knew when to keep his mouth shut.

He watched as Spencer sauntered into the interrogation room. He took a chair from the table, spun it around, and sat in it backwards. He leaned on the back of the chair as he addressed Pratt. “Hey Pratt, how's it hanging?” He held out his hand. “Shawn Spencer, psychic. We met yesterday.”

“That's Dr. Pratt to the likes of you, charlatan,” Pratt said, ignoring Spencer's hand.

“Again no handshake? You wound me sir,” Spencer said, putting his hand to his heart.

“Your wasting my air,” Pratt said disdainfully. “Leave.”

“Harsh man,” Spencer said, shaking his head. “You should be nicer to the people trying to help you.”

“You?” Pratt asked with a laugh. “I'd have better luck with a vagrant off the street. Who are you going to call as witnesses? Tinkerbell and Bigfoot?”

“Everyone knows Tinkerbell isn't real,” Spencer said. He frowned thoughtfully. “Although I can check on the availability of Bigfoot.”

“My tolerance for stupidity ran out with the so-called detective in here earlier,” Pratt said haughtily. “Go con somebody else. I don't need your help.”

“Even with all the evidence pointing towards you? Even with your known rivalry with the victim?” Spencer asked. “Yeah, I can see why you wouldn't want my help.”

“You have to be equals to be rivals,” Pratt said. “Sanders was a joke. He wasn't even worth a second glance until six months ago. I go on sabbatical and he manages to publish seven papers while I'm gone. But even that just brings him up to mildly annoying. Certainly not important enough to kill.”

“Even though funding was being cut from one of the labs?” Spencer asked.

“I wasn't worried,” Pratt said with a smug grin. “Now, you're giving me a headache.” _So I'm not the only one,_ Lassiter thought. “Leave.”

“If that's what you want,” Spencer said. He got up and started heading for the door. Lassiter was surprised he gave up so easily. Until he heard what Spencer said next. “Be sure to tell Lassie about that sweet new government job.”

“Wait!” Pratt said. Spencer stopped with his hand on the door knob. He threw a grin at the two-way mirror before heading back to the table.

“What job?” Lassiter asked, turning to Guster. He had done the background check himself on Pratt. There had been no mention of a new government job, or any new job for that matter.

“Shawn had a vision,” Guster said. _Of course he did_ , Lassiter thought. “He was offered a job at the Department of Defense.”

“Then why couldn't I find out anything about it?” he asked. Guster just shrugged. Grumbling, he brought his attention back to the interrogation room.

Spencer was once again sitting in front of Pratt. “What do you know?” Pratt was asking.

“I know someone got a very cushy government job recently,” Spencer said. “Someone who wouldn't need to kill over university funding.”

“Nice theory,” Pratt said evenly.

“Nice theory?” Spencer exclaimed. “I'm totally right! You should be jumping for joy. Or at least smiling. Maybe a little giddy?” He looked at Pratt's face, which showed no emotion whatsoever. “This totally gets you off the hook,” he explained. He kept looking at Pratt, waiting for some kind of reaction.

“I'm not saying another word,” Pratt said. He crossed his arms and stared straight ahead.

“But this clears you,” Spencer said again, confused. Pratt said nothing.

“Is this one of those secret government jobs no one is supposed to know about?” Spencer asked, pointing at Pratt. Pratt's gaze didn't waver an inch.

“But if you don't say anything, you'll go to jail and they won't know I'm right,” Spencer whined. “They have motive, mean, and opportunity. Your prints were on the chemicals in the lab. Plus you were sabotaging Sanders' experiments,” He stared imploringly at Pratt.

“Sabotage, uh,” Lassiter said. Spencer had finally been able to provide some useful information. He didn't believe for a second the bogus job offer. Pratt wasn't the type of man to keep it a secret, even if it was a matter of national security. With the fact that Pratt was already sabotaging Sanders' experiments, he'd have a virtually airtight case. He made a mental note to talk again with the lab staff, see if anyone noticed anything suspicious.

“Come on, you have to talk sometime,” Spencer said pleadingly. Clearly the silent treatment was getting to him.

Pratt opened his mouth. “I want a lawyer.”

Spencer threw up his hands. “Fine. Do it the hard way. I'm going to go find the real killer.” He got up and stomped out of the room, like a five year old throwing a tantrum.

Grinning, Lassiter went to meet Spencer in the hallway. “Good going Spencer,” he said. “Not only did you not prove his innocence, you got him to lawyer up.” He slowly clapped his hands mockingly.

“I got him to say more than you did with your staring contest,” Spencer said petulantly.

“Unfortunately, none of it was useful,” he said, enjoying Spencer's failure. “In fact, you provided more useful information than the suspect did.” He grinned at Spencer's confusion. “Sabotaging experiments certainly looks guilty to me.” He patted Spencer on the shoulder as he walked past him. He was going to get started on this lead right away.

“But he's not the killer.” he heard Spencer yell after him.

He just kept walking, smiling to himself. As he headed up the stairs, he realized that Spencer could be useful, on occasion. When he wasn't mucking things up or running around like an overgrown child. “O'Hara,” he said as he reached his desk. “Pull up the list of staff for Sanders' and Pratt's labs. I want to talk to them again.” 

* * *

 

“Well, that didn't go as planned,” Shawn said. He and Gus followed behind Lassiter up the stairs and back onto the main floor of the station. “We have no leads and I think I made the case against Pratt stronger.” He stopped in the foyer and watched as Lassiter went to his desk and immediately called for Juliet. “I almost wish he did do it. He's kind of a prick.”

“There's no kind of about it,” Gus replied. He turned to Shawn. “What do we do now?”

“Grab some jerk chicken and reexamine the case,” he said. He had been working all morning and skipped breakfast again. If he didn't eat soon he was thinking of turning cannibal. “Come on.” He started toward the exit.

“Aren't you forgetting something?” Gus asked. Shawn turned around. Gus was still standing where he had left him, arms crossed. He looked at Shawn expectantly.

“Let's see,” he said, heading back to Gus. He started counting points off on his hand. “I said hi to Jules and annoyed Lassie. We got nowhere with Pratt.” He thought for a moment, recounting the points on his fingers. “Nope, that's it. Nothing forgotten.”

“What about the fingerprint?” Gus asked. “You said you would have Juliet check it out.”

“Dude, I thought we agreed to drop this,” he said with frustration. He always went with his gut when deciding whether people were trustworthy. And his gut trusted Nikki. His gut was also complaining how empty it was, making him irritable.

“I never agreed to anything,” Gus said. “You, on the other hand, agreed to have Juliet check the print. Someone was in our office and I want to know who it was.” He looked at Shawn intently.

“Fine,” he snapped in frustration. “If it means we can finally get out of here and get some food, I'll show Juliet the print.” He looked around for the detective. He saw her heading towards the evidence room. “Hey Jules!” he called, waving her over.

“What is it, Shawn?” she asked when she reached them. “Lassiter wants to reinterview most of the lab staff and I still have made no progress on the robbery. So keep it quick please.” She looked harried by all the interruptions.

“Real quick,” he promised. “I just need you to check something for me.” He reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet. It wasn't there. “Just a second.” He quickly check his other pockets but came up empty. “Damn, my wallet is missing.” He tried to think back to the last time he had seen it.

“I don't have time right now,” Juliet said, interrupting his thoughts. “When you actually have something to show me, then you can bother me.” She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. “See you tonight.” She hurried off back towards the evidence room.

“You lost your wallet? Where have I heard that excuse before?” Gus asked sarcastically. He tsked and shook his head.

“What? I really lost it,” he complained. He turned out his pockets to show Gus they were empty. “I must have left it at the office.”

“I saw you put it back in your pocket before Nikki showed up,” Gus said. He frowned at Shawn. “This isn't just a ploy to make me pay for the food, is it?”

“Gus, you know you were going to pay anyway,” he said absentmindedly. He was going over in his head the last time he remembered having his wallet. He put the fingerprint card in the wallet, then put the wallet in his pocket. He didn't remember taking it out after that. “Let's go. Maybe it fell out in the car.” He headed for the door, checking his pockets again like the wallet would magically appear in one of them.

“I hope you find it soon. That print is a key piece of evidence,” Gus said. He followed Shawn out of the police station. 

* * *

 

“Did you find your wallet?”

“What?” Shawn asked, looking up. He was at home having dinner with Juliet. He had been thinking about the Sanders' case. Gus had had a route that afternoon, so he was left with reexamining the case so far. He was thinking of stopping back at the school tomorrow to talk to the students working in the lab. Maybe they knew something that would point to the killer. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts he hadn't heard what Juliet said. “Sorry, the spirits are a little loud tonight. Could you repeat that?”

Juliet rolled her eyes but repeated the question. “Did you find your wallet?”

“Yeah, I left it at the Psych office,” he said. She nodded and went back to her food. In truth, he still hadn't found his wallet. It wasn't in the Blueberry or at the office. He hadn't been anywhere else before he noticed it was missing. Gus had been annoyed he had to pay for the food again but that was normal. He hoped it turned up soon. Before Gus noticed the other credit card he had borrowed.

“You're awfully quiet tonight,” Juliet said, interrupting his thoughts again.

“Am I?” he asked, surprised. He hadn't realized he was spending that much time brooding over the case. “I'm sorry. I know you cherish our delightful dinner conversation.”

“Quiet is nice too,” Juliet said. “Especially compared to when you decided to describe the Saw movies to me over dinner. In detail.” She made a face and shuddered. “I don't think I can ever eat ravioli again without remembering that conversation.”

“You asked what Gus and I did all day,” he said by way of defense. “I was just explaining what we were watching.”

“It was still gross,” Juliet said, wrinkling her nose.

He laughed at her face. Juliet stuck her tongue out at him. The conversation turned to safer, less appetite ruining topics. He was able to keep both the Sanders' case and his missing wallet off his mind for the rest of the meal.

Later, they sat on the couch watching _Miss Congeniality_. It wasn't really his type of movie but Juliet liked it. A light rain was falling outside, the gentle pattering adding a cozy feel to the evening. Relaxed and bored, his mind started to wander. He thought again of his missing wallet. He mentally retraced his every step since the last time he saw it. He put it in his pocket. Nikki came in. He moved in front of his desk. She choked. They talked. He escorted her out of the office. She tripped and fell into him on the way to the door –

He groaned, realizing what must have happened. Juliet looked over at him with concern. “Is everything OK?” she asked.

He nodded. “Just imagining what a bikini wax must feel like,” he said.

Juliet looked at him strangely. “That was 20 minutes ago.”

“Yeah, my mind is a little behind tonight,” he said. It was the last scene he remembered watching before his mind wandered. “But keep watching. I know you enjoy it.” She gave him another strange look before turning back to the movie. He tried to keep his face calm but inside he was kicking himself. Gus was right. Nikki was nothing but a thief. She had picked his pocket when she fell into him. That's why he couldn't find his wallet. He was upset he hadn't seen it before. He was usually a better judge of character.

Juliet looked back over at him. “Are you sure everything is all right? You're awfully tense.”

“Yeah, just thinking about a case,” he said. He hated to do it, but maybe it was time to get some outside help. “Remember that girl I was telling you about?”

“The one looking for her father?” Jules asked.

He nodded. “That's her, I'm having a real hard time tracking him down.” He sighed and put on his pitiful look. “I think there's too much interference on the psychic wavelengths from the Sanders' case. I don't want to disappoint her.” He looked down as if defeated.

Just as he knew she would, Juliet jumped at the opening. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked, looking sympathetic.

“Well, if you could run her name, see what you find out, it would be really helpful,” he said, still trying to look defeated. “Maybe then I can clear my psychic channels and track her father down.”

“Of course,” Juliet said. “Anything to help a poor girl.” She leaned over and gave him a kiss. “Don't worry, it will all turn out OK.” She smiled as he looked up at her.

“Thanks Jules,” he said sincerely. He hated lying to her, but if she knew Nikki was stealing she would want to bring her in. He wasn't ready to turn her over to the police just yet. He still felt there was more going on with the case.

“Now stop worrying and watch the movie,” Juliet ordered.

He obediently snuggled in closer to her, shoving both cases to the back of his mind, and just tried to enjoy spending time with the woman he loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read and review.


	4. Thursday

_Thursday_

 

A muffled pounding woke Shawn up the next morning. Listening as the remnants of his last dream faded away (something involving a cage match between Hacksaw Jim Duggan and a giant pineapple), he realized the pounding was coming from the front door. He groaned and curled up with the blankets over his head. “Go away,” he grumbled into his pillow. The pounding continued. In addition to the pounding, he could hear what sounded like someone shouting “Shawn!” He peered blearily at the alarm clock. He could just make out the time; 7:15. “It's barely morning,” he moaned, covering his head with his pillow. He never liked mornings. He rarely rose before 9 if he could help it. Plus, he had been up most of the night worrying about both his cases. He had no leads on Sanders' killer and no idea what to do about Nikki. So he really didn't need to get up at what was practically the middle of the night, by his standards.

The pounding stopped. He sighed in relief. Whoever it was must have given up. It couldn't have been that important anyway. If it was, they would have tried calling him by now. Deciding there was nothing pressing that required his immediate attention, at least for a couple of hours, he tried to fall back asleep. He was just drifting off when someone barged into his bedroom. “Shawn!”

He immediately jerked awake. He scrambled around, trying to see who it was, got tangled in the sheets, and fell out of bed. As he tried to free himself from the death grip of the sheets, he heard laughter coming from the doorway. Looking up, he saw Gus standing there, clutching his sides as he laughed at Shawn's predicament. “Not funny, dude,” he said testily, still struggling to get out of one of the sheets. Gus just laughed harder. Ripping off the sheet at last, he sat down on the edge of the bed. “How did you even get in here?” he asked.

“You gave me a key, remember?” Gus said, quieting down.

“Right, yeah,” he said, remembering. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, trying to kickstart his brain. He had been making copies of Gus's keys for years. It made it easier to get into his place while Gus was out. Recently, Gus had been demanding a copy of his key in return. It mostly sat unused, unless Gus was retrieving something Shawn had 'borrowed' with his own key. “Just don't tell Juliet you have a key. She would kill me.” At the thought of Juliet, he realized she wasn't in the room. “Where is Jules, anyway?”

“At the crime scene. Where you're supposed to be,” Gus said. He frowned at Shawn. “Don't you ever charge your phone?”

“I charged it,” he protested. He reached over to the night stand and started digging through the detritus on top. “See,” he said, holding the phone up for Gus. He pressed a button. Nothing happened. He fiddled with the phone for a minute, then looked sheepishly at Gus. “I _thought_ I charged it.”

“That's what Juliet figured when she couldn't reach you,” Gus said. “She called me to wake you up and bring you to the crime scene.”

He vaguely remembered Juliet getting a phone call earlier that morning. Too early. She had said something to him, but he had just mumbled and gone back to sleep. She probably didn't think at the time he was needed on the case, or she would have tried harder to wake him up. “Let me throw some clothes on and we can go,” he said.

“I'll be waiting outside,” Gus said. He left the room.

He threw the sheets back on the bed, then quickly dressed. He made sure to grab his car charger for his phone, then headed outside to meet Gus. It looked like it was going to be another long day. 

* * *

 

“How much farther?” Shawn asked with a whine. He and Gus were traipsing across the damp fields of Howell Park, headed for the trail head. It hadn't seemed that far on the map, but it felt like they had been walking for hours.

“About 30 seconds less than the last time you asked,” Gus said irritably. He could tell his friend was getting annoyed by the question and grinned to himself. “I told you in the car. It's about a 20 minute walk.” Up ahead they could just make out yellow police tape cordoning off an area of the trail head. “We're almost there.”

“Finally,” he said dramatically. “Civilization! A beacon out of this horrid wilderness!” He fell to his knees, arms outstretched to the sky.

“Will you get up?” Gus snapped, pulling Shawn to his feet. “We're in a park. There are people right over there.” He pointed out a couple enjoying an early morning stroll with their dog. He shook his head. “I knew stopping for coffee was a bad idea. It makes you hyperactive.”

“And also hyperobservant,” Shawn added. He wiped at the damp grass stains on his pants. “Which means I'll notice whatever the cops missed even quicker.” He started walking again, bouncing slightly with each step. Coffee did make him more jittery than normal.

“How do you know they'll miss anything?” Gus asked reasonably.

He gave Gus a knowing look. “They always miss something. Otherwise we would have been out of business years ago.” Gus didn't seem to have an argument for that. “Tell me again what Jules said about the body.”

“It was found soon after the park opened by a young couple on their morning hike,” Gus said. Shawn made a face. Who in their right mind wakes up this early to exercise? “The police thought he might be homeless until they saw the acid burns on his face and hands,” Gus finished.

“Acid burns?” he asked. That wasn't a common MO, especially if the victim was homeless. Acid strong enough to cause burns wasn't readily available to most people either. However, if one worked in a chemistry lab, they would have easy access to a smörgåsbord of dangerous chemicals. The question is, why would someone burn a homeless man with acid? Unless he wasn't really homeless. “Dude, I think this death is related to the Sanders' case,” he said excitedly. He started jumping in excitement.

“Maybe that's why the police called you in,” Gus said, eyeing him. He grabbed his arm to hold him still. “Will you calm down? You're acting like a hyperactive five year old.” They had reached the crime scene and he glanced around to see if anyone had noticed Shawn's antics.

“You're acting like a five year old,” he said, sticking his tongue out at Gus. He flinched at Gus's glare. “OK,” he said placatingly. “I'll try to calm down.”

“Good,” Gus said. “Because you don't need another reason for Lassiter to block us from this case.” He nodded towards the detective, now visible behind the crime scene tape.

“Lassie-face,” Shawn called, waving to the detective. “Isn't it a lovely morning?”

“Spencer, how nice of you to join us,” Lassiter said, walking towards them. “It's only been what, an hour, since we called you?” He gave Shawn a deprecating grin.

“Carlton, play nice,” Juliet said, coming up to stand next to her partner. She smiled at her boyfriend. “Nice to see your finally awake Shawn.” She turned to Gus. “Thanks for getting him. Did he forget to charge his phone again?”

“Yes,” Gus said. “I had to pound on the door for 10 minutes before he would even get up.” He shook his head as if to say 'That's Shawn for you.'

“He really doesn't like to wake up early,” she said in agreement. “When I get up for work, he usually just rolls over and goes back to sleep.”

“You should have seen him in high school,” Gus said. “He almost didn't graduate because of the number of times he was late for homeroom.”

“I'd believe it,” Juliet said. “Sometimes it feels like I'm living with a teenager.” Gus nodded sympathetically, causing her to smile.

Shawn watched this exchange with disbelief. “You do know I'm standing right here,” he said, causing both parties to look at him. “Right in front of you. Hearing everything your saying.” He held up his hand and waved it in front of Gus's face. “I haven't turned invisible, have I?”

Gus slapped his hand away. “We can see you Shawn,” he said. “But it would be nice if you were a little more responsible.” He gave Shawn a disappointed look.

“Enough talking about me,” he said in frustration. “Shouldn't we be discussing the case?” He turned to Lassiter. “Lassie, you hate personal stuff. Tell them to 'get back to work', or 'leave that crap at home,'” he said, using his best 'Lassiter' voice.

“I don't know,” Lassiter said with an amused grin. “I think I might let it slid, just this once.” He grinned wider at Shawn's discomfort.

“Then I'll just investigate on my own,” he said, turning his nose up at them. He stormed off into the woods in a huff.

After a second, Juliet caught up with him. “We were just joking around,” she said soothingly. “Don't take it so personally.” When he didn't respond, she pulled him to a stop. “What's bothering you?” she asked, giving his face a searching look.

He gave her a weak grin. “Just didn't get enough sleep, I guess,” he said. He couldn't tell her he was starting to feel a little overwhelmed. Both cases were becoming more complicated than he originally thought. He was almost glad for this new body, if it provided some insight into the Sanders' case.

He was also getting tired of the constant comments about his immaturity. He knew how his actions looked to others. But goofing around was how he coped with the stress the police cases brought on. If he started taking things too seriously, he'd probably snap. He had come close a few times in the past, particularly after his dad was shot. He didn't want to come that close again.

A noise behind him broke his train of thought. Lassiter and Gus were walking through the woods towards them. “I'll be fine,” he said, giving Juliet a reassuring grin. She nodded, but still looked a little worried. He motioned Juliet to lead the way and continued heading through the woods.

Lassiter and Gus caught up with them just as they reached the clearing with the body. Gus took one look at it and started making those weird noises he did when he was trying not to throw up. “Excuse me,” he said, walking off into the woods. Shawn could see him about 20 feet away, leaning against a tree, taking deep breaths.

He moved closer to the body to get a better look. He couldn't blame Gus for his reaction. The victim was laying on his back, giving everyone a perfect view of his horribly burned face. The skin looked like it had almost melted. He also noticed the same burns on the victim's hands. He was dressed in torn jeans and a raggedy t-shirt. He wasn't wearing shoes or socks. A jagged slash across his throat made cause of death clear.

“Victim appears to be in his twenties,” Lassiter said after a moment. All trace of joking was gone from his voice. “No id found on the body and those burns will make a facial match or fingerprinting impossible.” He pointed to a path of disturbed leaves through the woods. “Victim was dragged here from the trail head. Tire tracks showed the victim was transported using one of the park's golf carts.”

“There are golf carts?” Shawn asked, looking up. “Dude, did you know there were golf carts?” he called to Gus. “We could have ridden one of those instead of walking here.” Gus waved weakly at him but refused to move closer to the body. He looked back at Lassiter. “Did anyone find the cart?”

“We did,” Lassiter said. “It was the only golf cart in the garage with mud on the tires. Forensics went over it, but didn't even find a fingerprint.” He shrugged. “They checked the other carts just to be safe. Nothing.”

“Lack of blood on the clothing suggests they were put on after death. The rain wouldn't have been able to wash it all away,” Juliet said. “He's dressed like he's homeless, but we don't think he was. CSI already cleared the scene. The rain washed away any evidence the killer may have left behind.” She came up next to Shawn. “Is there anything you can sense about the victim's identity?”

He looked the body over again. The clothes were ill-fitting, probably because they weren't his own. The soles of his feet were unmarked. The shoes were likely removed to put the pants on and left off because they were covered in blood. Looking at the wound in the neck, he noticed a tiny sliver of glass. The neckline of the shirt was stretched out, letting him see the edge of a tattoo. “Your right, he wasn't homeless,” he said. “He has a home, and a job. A job at the prestigious Santa Barbara University.” He stood up and looked at Lassiter and Juliet. “More specifically, in the chemistry department.”

“You're saying this is connected to the Sanders' case?” Lassiter asked skeptically.

Shawn hissed, putting his hand to his temple. “I'm seeing the victim and his killer. They're arguing about something. Tempers grew heated. The killer grabbed something made of glass, smashed it, and used it to cut the victim's throat.” He mimed slashing at someone, then clutched his own throat and started choking. He stumbled back a few steps. “The killer used some kind of acid to burn the victim's face and hands to delay identification.” He flinched and made sizzling sounds, as if something was burning him. “ _I'm melting. I'm melting_ ,” he croaked, falling down to the ground. He popped back up. “Then he dressed him up like a homeless person and dumped him in the woods far from the school, hoping to lead the police off track.” He stood there panting, looking triumphantly at the two detectives.

“We can pull up the list of students and techs working in the two labs, see if anyone is missing,” Juliet said to Lassiter.

“No need,” Shawn said. “I'm sensing if you check the victim's right collar bone, you'll find a tattoo of a Chinese character. Some say its the character for 'soup.' Others disagree, as if someone doesn't know what he is talking about.” He glared over at Gus.

Juliet pulled on the victim's shirt collar, exposing the tattoo. “He's right,” she called over to Lassiter.

“The victim is one Sam Cooper,” Shawn said. He smirked. “A bright eyed college student who worked in both Sanders' and Pratt's labs.”

“O'Hara,” Lassiter said. “Have someone check on Cooper, see if he's really missing.” She called one of the other cops over and started giving him instructions. He turned to Shawn. “Good work, Spencer,” he said grudgingly.

“Always happy to help Lassie,” he said with a grin. He stepped back as Lassiter directed the coroner's men to remove the body. He was heading over to join Gus when he heard a commotion in the woods behind him.

“What's going on?” Lassiter asked. Shawn turned as McNab came out of the woods, dragging Nikki along behind him. He exchanged a quick, worried glance with Gus before moving closer.

“I found her sneaking around in the woods,” McNab said to Lassiter. “She said she was lost and didn't realize this was a crime scene.” Even McNab didn't seem convinced by this story.

“Oh, really?” Lassiter asked, eyeing Nikki. She was wearing the ripped jeans again and the blue sweatshirt. It made her appear older than 15. Old enough that she might look like a college student to a certain detective. “Well, let's just see what your story is after you take a trip downtown.” He turned to McNab. “Bring her in. I'll question her myself after I finish here.” Shawn saw fear in Nikki's eyes as McNab started leading her away.

“Wait!” Shawn called. All eyes turned towards him. He heard Gus approach as he said, “She's with me.”

“What are you doing?” Gus whispered behind him.

“Improvising,” he hissed back.

“What do you mean, she's with you?” Lassiter asked suspiciously.

Shawn looked around. Juliet had walked over and was eyeing Nikki speculatively. She glanced at him, silently asking what was going on. McNab just seemed confused as he looked from one person to another. Nikki was looking at him pleadingly. He met her gaze, nodding slightly.

“She's my psychic apprentice,” he said, remembering the conversation from yesterday. He saw the startled look in Nikki's eyes. He hoped she would be able to pull this off.

“Then why was she wondering around in the woods alone?” Lassiter asked, still suspicious.

“I asked her to check to see if she could sense the killer's astral trail,” he explained. He gestured at Nikki proudly. “She really is quite gifted.”

“Really,” Lassiter said doubtfully. He turned to Nikki. “Let her go McNab.” Once she was free, Lassiter said, “Alright, prove it.” He motioned to the body. “Tell me what you sense, 'psychic.'” He crossed his arms with a smirk, as if anticipating Nikki's failure.

Nikki glanced nervously at Shawn. He nodded encouragingly at her. Taking a deep breath, she approached the body. She looked over it quickly, then closed her eyes. She held her arms straight out over the body, as if sensing the flow of energy around it. “I'm sensing this person is not what they seem. These clothes are not his. They are a disguise. Someone doesn't want you to know who this person is.” She frowned as if concentrating. “I feel a burning on the neck. A mark, one that might identify the victim.” She moved her hands back and forth over the body. “I'm also sensing the killer wore gloves, which is why there were no fingerprints on the golf cart.” She opened her eyes and looked over at him.

He nodded approvingly at her. She did good, confirming most of the details he had 'sensed' about the victim. She had even figured out why they hadn't found any fingerprints on the golf cart. He guessed she had been spying on them, picking up what details she could about the crime, before she got caught. “Satisfied, Lassie?” he asked, grinning at the detective.

“Well. . .” Lassie said, hesitating. Juliet elbowed him in the side. He rolled his eyes. “OK, fine. She's free to go. Just keep her away from my crime scenes. The last thing I need is another psychic messing things up.” He noticed everyone standing around, watching. “Back to work people!” he shouted. Everyone quickly found something to busy themselves with.

“OK, let's go,” Shawn said, grabbing Nikki's arm. He started dragging her away from the crime scene. “We need to talk,” he said quietly to her. She nodded, swallowing nervously.

“Shawn, a word please,” Juliet called out.

“Gus, take her to the car,” Shawn whispered. Gus nodded. He turned back to Juliet as Gus led Nikki away. “What is it, my magnificent princess?” he said grandly.

“Who was that girl?” Juliet asked, eyeing him carefully.

“My apprentice,” he said. “I've been thinking of finding one, to pass on all the wisdom I've accumulated over the years. She must have sensed it, because she showed up at the Psych office, begging for the job.” Every good lie had a grain of truth in it, his dad always said. After all, she had shown up at the Psych office on her own. And she had asked for the job.

“You never mentioned an apprentice before,” Juliet said. She clearly doubted his story, even if she had sided with him against Lassiter.

“That's because she just started,” Shawn said dismissively. Juliet still looked suspicious. “Look, is something wrong?” he asked, going on the offensive.

“I don't know,” she said. “Is there?” She stared him straight in the eye, waiting to catch him in a lie. He stared straight back, cool and confident.

“O'Hara!” Lassiter called. “Fraternize later. We have work to do.” He glared at them from his position near the body.

Juliet looked away. “We'll talk later.” She stalked off towards Lassiter.

Shawn watched her leave. This complicated matters. He needed to deal with Nikki soon, before Juliet ran that background check and figured out she was his private case. It was time to get some straight answers from her, find out what she was hiding.

But when he met Gus at the car, Nikki was nowhere to be seen. “Where is she?” he asked. He glanced inside the car, in case Nikki was hiding in there.

“She took off,” Gus said. He threw something at Shawn. “She said to give you this.”

It was his wallet. He checked the contents. The cash was gone, but the fingerprint and all the credit cards seemed to be in there. “Damn,” he said, pocketing the wallet. “I really needed to talk to her.”

“Did you know she stole your wallet?” Gus asked accusingly.

“Gus,” he said calmingly.

“I knew she was up to no good,” Gus said vindictively. He pointed at Shawn. “I told you this was a bad idea. Why didn't you tell the police the truth?”

“Because I promised her I wouldn't,” Shawn said. “But if she's going to keep breaking into crime scenes, I don't know how much longer I can cover for her.” He rubbed his temples. The whole thing was starting to give him a headache.

“Maybe you shouldn't,” Gus said. “The police are going to find out sooner or later.”

“Yeah,” he said, thinking of the background check. “But I'll deal with that when I have to.” His stomach took that moment to grumble loudly. He looked over at Gus. “How about we grab some breakfast?” he asked, climbing into the car.

Gus followed suit. “Ok, but since you have your wallet back, you're buying.” He looked smugly at Shawn. “And don't think you can use my credit card to pay for it. I checked your wallet for anymore 'borrowed' cards.”

“Why Burton Guster, you sneaky bastard,” he said proudly. “You have been learning. As a reward, I will pay for breakfast.” He buckled up as Gus started the car. “Let's get out of here.” 

* * *

 

That afternoon found Shawn once again alone at the Psych office. With such a light case load lately, Gus was picking up some extra routes to help pay the bills. Shawn had spent some time going over suspects in the Sanders' case, but no one stood out to him as a killer. With Nikki MIA, he decided to take some time to relax and catch up on the Mentalist. He was halfway through the second episode when his phone starting ringing. He glanced at the id before answering it. “Hey Jules. Anything new on the Sanders' case?” There was silence on the other end of the line. “Jules? You there?”

“I got the results of Nikki's background check,” Juliet said finally. “You need to come down here.” She sounded eerily calm, which worried him.

“Can't you just tell me over the phone?” he asked uneasily.

“Just get down here. And come alone.” She hung up on him.

He sat there for a minute, staring at his phone. What on earth had Juliet found out about Nikki that she wouldn't say over the phone? Growing more uneasy by the minute, he grabbed his keys and headed for the station. 

* * *

 

Shawn headed straight to Juliet's desk. “Okay, I'm here,” he said, plopping down in the chair next to her desk. “What did you find out?”

She organized the folders on her desk. “I need you to be honest with me, Shawn,” she said without looking up.

“Of course,” he said. He assumed she had recognized Nikki as the girl from the crime scene and probably wanted an explanation.

She stacked the folders neatly on her desk. She finally looked up at him. He was surprised by the anger in her eyes. “Did you know about her?” she asked.

“Look, she just wanted some help finding her father,” he explained. “I didn't know she would follow me to the crime scene.” He would have said more, but Juliet interrupted him.

“Did you know why she wanted to find her father?” she asked, staring at him intently.

“She said she wasn't getting along with her mom,” he said slowly. “Her mom wouldn't tell her who her father was, so she hoped I could.” He saw Juliet close her eyes in relief. “Jules, what is going on?” he asked, confused.

She hit a button on her keyboard, then turned the computer monitor towards him. “I think you should read this,” she said.

He looked at the screen. It was the results of Nikki's background check. He read through it and his eyes widened. “Is this accurate?” he asked hoarsely, glancing at Juliet.

She nodded. “I double checked it myself.”

He leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, that does explain a lot,” he said. All the little things he had noticed over the last three days, not wanting to talk about her mother, wanting no police involvement. All of it explained in two paragraphs. “What are you going to do now?” he asked.

Juliet sighed. “I just can't ignore this Shawn,” she said apologetically.

He sighed too. “I know.” He thought quickly, trying to find a solution. Now that he knew the truth, he couldn't just turn her in to the police. “Can you give me a few days at least? Let me talk to her?” he asked finally.

Juliet considered this, then nodded. “Yeah, I think I can.”

“Good,” he said in relief. A thought occurred to him. “Do you have fingerprint records on her?”

“Um, yeah,” Juliet said startled. She called them up on the screen.

He took out his wallet and pulled out the fingerprint. He compared it to the prints on the screen. After a minute, he put it back in his wallet and stood up. “I have to go,” he said. “I might be home late, so don't wait up.”

She grabbed his arm before he could leave. “I know you want to help but be careful. This girl has been through a lot already.” She released his arm, glancing around. “Call me if you need anything,” she said quietly.

He leaned down to give her a quick peck on the cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered in her ear. He turned away and left the station. He knew where he could find Nikki. 

* * *

 

The sun had already gone down and the Psych office was dark and silent. The only illumination came from the lights outside along the boardwalk. They provided just enough light to make out a figure slowly easing the back door of the office open. The figure entered and silently closed the door behind them. They quietly made their way through the office, navigating by memory and the faint shapes that could be made out in the dim light. The figure made it to Shawn's desk and flicked on the desk light. They sat down and started going through the drawers. Suddenly, a voice sounded in the dark office.

“Hello, Nikki.”

Nikki jumped, looking around wildly. Shawn stepped out from where he had been hiding by the front door. “I figured you would come in the back. We never remember to lock that door.”

“Sh-Shawn!” she stammered. She got up quickly and backed away, putting the desk between them. “It's not what it looks like,” she said quickly.

“I don't think anything about you is what it looks like,” he said, coming into the room. He gestured to the couch by the window. “Have a seat.” His gaze softened when he saw the frightened look on her face. “Don't worry. I just want to talk.”

She reluctantly sat down on the couch. He pulled his desk chair over to sit across from her. “What do you want to talk about?” she asked nervously.

He sighed, rubbing his hands. He had to do this carefully, or she would just run off again. The best thing would be if she told him the truth himself. He didn't think it would be that easy, but he would give her a chance. “Why don't you tell me what you're really doing here.”

“Here in the office?” she asked evasively.

“Here in Santa Barbara,” he clarified. “I know you're not from around here.” He waited silently, hoping she would voluntarily fill in the gaps.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. Her eyes were wide and kept darting to the exits, looking for a way out.

“Nikki Peterson, born in Columbia, North Carolina,” he said. He looked at her intently. “Last known residence; Denver, Colorado.” He watched as her face paled. “Care to explain?”

“OK, so I had to travel a little farther than you thought to get here,” she said shakily. “And my mom doesn't know I'm here, so if you could just keep it quiet. . .” Her voice trailed off as she saw the pitying look on his face.

“Nikki,” he said gently. “I know about your mom.” She looked at him in shock. “I'm so sorry,” he said sincerely.

Tears started streaming down her face. She tried to hold back the sobs, but he could see she was fighting a losing battle. He did the only thing he could think of. He went over to her and pulled her into a hug. She broke down completely, crying heavily into his shoulder. “It's ok,” he said, patting her on the back. “Let it out.” He could feel her trembling as the heart-wrenching sobs shook her frame. He wondered if anyone had been there for her when it happened. He couldn't believe she had been able to hold it together for this long on her own. They sat that way for several minutes before she was finally cried out.

She pulled back from him, wiping at her eyes. “Thanks,” she said, sniffing. “I haven't cried like that since the night she died.” She looked down, embarrassed by her outburst.

He grabbed a box of tissues off Gus's desk. He handed them to her and sat back down in the chair. “That was what, a week and a half ago?” he asked quietly.

She nodded. “Yeah.” She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “The doctor said the cancer was unusually aggressive. She didn't have a chance.” She wiped her eyes with a tissue as fresh tears fell.

He gave her a minute to collect herself again. He had a feeling the next questions weren't going to be easy. “You weren't lying about having no other family,” he said. “So they put you in foster care.” He saw her tense at his words, her face becoming guarded. “After two days, you disappeared.” He waited for an explanation, watching her closely.

“It wasn't for me,” she said. “I decided to try to find my birth father instead. See if he would take me in.” She tried to keep her tone light, but he could detect a hint of fear in her voice.

“You seem like a bright kid,” he said. “You could have tried to find your birth father from Denver. They love to place foster kids with family if possible. So why did you suddenly take off like that?” He felt uncomfortable pressuring her like this. But he had to know the real reason she left if he was going to help her.

“You can't make me go back,” she said, her voice trembling. “I'll just run off again.” Her whole body had tensed up and she looked ready to bolt.

“I'm not making you go anywhere,” he said carefully. He was startled by the fear he saw in her eyes. “Look at me.” She met his gaze, eyes wide. “You're safe here. I won't send you back.” He saw a myriad of emotions flickering across her face; fear, distrust, panic, pain. She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “I promise. You can trust me,” he said. She opened her eyes and met his gaze. He stared back levelly, willing her to believe him.

“You promise not to tell anyone?” she asked quietly.

“I promise,” he said, crossing his heart.

That earned him a small smile. “OK,” she said. “I'll tell you.” She leaned forwards, resting her arms on her knees. She stared at the floor as she talked. “The first night was OK. I wasn't the only foster kid. There was another girl and a guy staying there. The girl basically ignored me. I wasn't really in the mood to talk, so that was fine. The guy kept staring at me, but that was normal. I had guys staring at me all the time in school or at the mall.” She stopped talking, still staring at the floor. He could see this was hard for her. He gave her the space to tell the story at her own pace. “Things didn't go well the second night. Since it was just the three of us, we each had our own rooms. It was late; everyone else was asleep. I heard someone open the door to my room.” She paused and took a deep, trembling breath. “He came in. The other foster kid. He said he just wanted to talk. And at first, that's all he did. Then he was holding my hand. He was leaning in closer. He kissed me and started running his hands over me. He-he pulled off my shirt and held me down on the bed.” She stopped again, trembling hard.

“Nikki – “ he said gently.

She shook her head. “No, I have to get this out.” She took another deep breath before continuing. “I managed to pull free and punched him in the face. He started cursing and came after me again. I grabbed the desk lamp and smashed him on the head with it. After that, I panicked. I couldn't stay there anymore. I threw what clothes I had in a bag and left that night. I got on the first bus I could find heading out of town.” She looked up at him. He could see the panic in her eyes as she remembered that night. “I didn't know where to go. Then I remembered what my mom said about my birth father being from Santa Barbara. The bus I was on was already heading west, so I figured it was as good a destination as any. Once I got here, I didn't know what to do next. I had no idea how to find my dad. Luckily, I saw an article about you in the paper. I figured if anyone could find my dad, a psychic could.” She leaned back and spread her arms. “So here I am.” She seemed drained from her speech and sat limply on the couch, staring at the floor.

Shawn wiped a hand over his face. Working with the police, he knew some of the horrible things that happened to people in foster care. He just never had to face someone who had been through it. He felt a surge of protectiveness for Nikki. He had already promised he wouldn't send Nikki back to foster care. After hearing her story there was no he would ever let that happen. But she couldn't keep staying at the Psych office and going who knew where during the day. She needed a place to stay. Somewhere safe. He couldn't bring her home. Juliet might be willing to look the other way for a few days, but she was a cop first. She would feel obligated to notify someone where she was and Nikki would end up back in the system. There was only one place he could think of to bring her.

He stood up. “Come on,” he said, holding out his hand to her. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. He started leading her towards the door.

“Where are we going?” she asked. She may have trusted him enough to confide in him, but he could still hear a trace of fear in her voice.

“You can't keep breaking into the office,” he said. “You need somewhere to stay.” He gave her an encouraging grin. “Don't worry. He does this kind of thing all the time.” He pulled Gus's keys from his pocket, glad he had asked to borrow his car. “You'll be safe there.” She nodded cautiously, letting him guide her out of the office. 

* * *

 

Shawn knocked on the door. “Just follow my lead,” he said. Nikki nodded. He could hear someone stumbling around inside, followed by some muttered cursing. The light clicked on right before the door opened. “Hi Dad! Mind if we come in?” He pushed Nikki past his surprised father before slipping into the house himself. He lead her into the middle of the kitchen before his father had time to protest.

“Shawn? What's going on?” Henry Spencer asked, closing the door. He looked the same as he had when Shawn was a kid. Minus the hair. “It's 2 o'clock in the morning.” He pointed at Nikki. “Who's this?” He looked grumpy, which was understandable when one barges into your home in the middle of the night. Of course, Shawn knew he was always grumpy.

“Dad, this is Nikki Peterson,” he said. “She needs a place to stay.” He turned to Nikki. “Guest bedroom is up the stairs, second door on the left.” She looked hesitantly between him and Henry. “Go on, it's fine.” She gave Henry one last hesitant glance before heading to the stairs.

“Shawn, we've been through this,” Henry said, as she climbed the stairs. “I'm not a hotel. You can't keep hiding people out at my house.”

“Come on dad. It's only for a couple of days. A week tops,” he said. He leaned back against the counter, watching his father. Now that he knew the whole story, he should be able to find Nikki's father within that timeframe. He just needed a place for her to stay until then. “You said you needed more help around the house since you've been shot,” he reminded him.

“Yeah, a few weeks ago,” Henry said. He looked up the stairs. “Just how old is she?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“Age is all relative,” Shawn said, evasively. “I myself feel a youthful 21.” He pointed at his father. “You, on the other hand, look a worn out 65.”

“Shawn, answer the question,” Henry said. He crossed his arms and gave Shawn an intimidating stare.

Even if he didn't tell his father, he would find out eventually. He still had contacts at the police station. “Before you freak out, just know she has no where else to go,” Shawn said placatingly. “I'm trying to track down her father, but until then she needs a place to stay.”

“Shawn,” Henry said warningly.

“She's 15,” he said reluctantly. He flinched as he saw his father's face turn completely red.

“15? She's 15?!,” Henry yelled. “Why the hell are you trying to hide a 15 year old girl at my house?” He glared at Shawn suspiciously. “Is she a run away? Are you hiding her from the police?”

“It's complicated,” he said hesitantly. The less his father knew, the better.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn't turn her over to the police right now,” Henry said. Shawn knew this wasn't a completely empty threat. After all, the man had arrested him when he was a teenager.

“Like I said, she has nowhere to go,” he said. He glanced up the stairs to make sure Nikki wasn't in ear shot. He lowered his voice just to be sure. “She has no other family. She would have to go into foster care. And I promised I wouldn't send her back.” He realized his mistake as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Back?” Henry asked, voice rising. “As in she was already there? She is a run away, isn't she?” He ran his hand over his head. “I told you I wouldn't hide anyone from the police anymore.” He walked over to the wall and grabbed the cordless phone. He was already dialing when Shawn snatched it from his hand.

“Dad, please, hear me out for a minute,” Shawn said quickly, backing away with the phone. Henry was glaring furiously, but made no move to take the phone back. He took a deep breath before continuing. “Juliet already knows about her. She's giving me a few days to track down her dad. So she's not really hiding from the police.” He gave his dad a small grin, which was not returned. He let the grin fade as he decided how much of the truth to tell his father. “Look, she had a problem at the last foster home she was at and I can't send her back into the system,” he said, hoping his father would let him leave it at that.

Some of the anger had faded from Henry's face. “What kind of problem?” he asked.

“A problem involving a boy at the home,” Shawn said, looking away. He couldn't tell his father what had happened. Besides, he had made a promise to Nikki. “Please don't ask for anymore details.” He stared intently at the cabinets, waiting for an answer.

Something of the seriousness of the situation must have been in his tone. He heard his father sigh. “All right, she can stay,” he said. Shawn risked a look at him. The anger had faded completely away, replaced by concern. “But only temporarily,” he said. The words lacked the force they normally would have had.

Shawn smiled in relief. “Thanks, dad,” he said. There were several seconds of awkward silence, as neither man was good at dealing with emotional issues. “I'm just going to run up and let Nikki know what's going on,” he said, desperate to get out of the kitchen. He turned and headed up the stairs before his dad could say anything.

Entering the guest room, he saw Nikki sitting nervously on the bed. “We're good,” he said. “I convinced him to let you stay.” He sat down on the bed next to Nikki. “He's not the easiest person to live with, being a former cop and all. But it's better than hiding in the Psych office.” He was surprised when Nikki threw her arms around him in a hug.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. Shawn returned the hug awkwardly. He wasn't a touchy-feely kind of guy. But there was a part of him, a part that felt protective of this girl he had only met three days ago, that was touched by the hug.

She released him and pulled away, blushing. She seemed embarrassed by her emotional display. “So, it's getting late. I'm feeling kind of tired.” She stretched and gave a fake yawn to emphasize this fact.

He stood up. “You're right. I should go. I'll stop by tomorrow to let you know how the search is going.” He walked towards the door. He was almost out of the room when he turned back. “I will find your father. You can count on me,” he said, meeting Nikki's gaze.

“I know,” she said, trust in her eyes.

He nodded and left the room. He went down the stairs and found his father still in the kitchen. “Gotta go. Thanks again pop,” he said, beelining through the kitchen.

“I hope you know what you're doing Shawn,” Henry called after him.

“Of course,” he yelled back, pulling open the door. He gave his father a grin and left, shutting the door behind him. “At least, I hope I do,” he said quietly to himself, grin fading from his face. Nikki was counting on him. He wouldn't let her down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was one of the hardest for me to write, emotionally. Please let know what you think.


	5. Friday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the longest of the whole story. Hope everyone makes it through it.  
> Side note: I had never seen the Breakfast Club until after I wrote this chapter.

_Friday_

 

“Shawn. . . Shawn. . . Earth to Shawn.” Something came flying through the air and bounced off Shawn's forehead. He was sitting at his desk, head resting on his hand, looking at his computer screen. Glancing down, he saw a balled up piece of paper sitting on his keyboard. He raised his head off his hand and looked over at Gus. “Dude, what was that for?” he asked. He blinked. “When did you get here?” he asked in confusion.

“Five minutes ago,” Gus said. “You were kind of zoned out staring at your computer screen. I couldn't get your attention.” He looked at Shawn carefully. “You look like hell.” He went over to his desk and sat down.

“Gee, thanks,” he said sarcastically, rubbing bloodshot eyes. He hadn't gotten home until just before 3. He had tossed and turned for a couple hours before finally falling asleep. Juliet had woken him up around 8 to find out what had happened with Nikki. After that he had given up on sleep and come to the office. He could only imagine how bad he looked. He had made it a point to avoid all reflective surfaces that morning for just that reason. After four cups of coffee, he still felt sluggish. “Just didn't get enough sleep last night,” he told Gus, giving a jaw-cracking yawn. “I'm gonna make some more coffee. Want any?” He struggled out of his chair and dragged himself towards the coffee maker.

“I'm good,” Gus said. Shawn pulled out the bag of beans and plugged in the grinder. “What I wanted to ask you – “ Gus was cut off as Shawn started the grinder. He waited for Shawn to finish before trying again. “I wanted to know – “ The grinder started up again. He waited, less patiently this time. The grinder turned off. “I wanted – “ The grinder turned on. “Shawn!” Gus yelled. “Do you know how bad that is for the motor?”

Shawn turned off the grinder. It was so much fun teasing Gus. “Sorry, buddy,” he said. “But I like my coffee extra ground.” He hid a grin as he heard Gus grumbling. He measured out the grounds, filled the reservoir and started the coffee maker. Soon the sounds and smells of freshly brewing coffee filled the office. He leaned back against the counter, facing Gus. “Now, what were you trying to say?”

“I was asking how things went with Nikki,” Gus said. He had filled Gus in about the background check when he had borrowed the car the night before.

“Better than I thought it would,” he said. “I was able to convince my dad to let her stay for awhile.” The coffee had finished brewing. He poured himself a cup and held it up to his nose. He inhaled the sweet, sweet fragrance of this life-saving nectar from the gods.

“How did you manage that?” Gus asked. When he didn't answer right away, Gus's eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Please tell me you didn't agree to help him around the house. I got stuck doing most of the work last time.”

He sat back at his desk, sipping his coffee. He hoped drinking it black would help wake him up faster. “No chores, Gus. Don't worry,” he said. He picked up his phone, checked it, then put it back on his desk.

“Then how did you convince your dad to let Nikki stay?” Gus asked.

“I have my ways,” he said mysteriously. Gus just looked at him. He sighed. “I explained what's going on with her and he agreed to let her stay. So just drop it, all right?” Gus seemed surprised by his tone. Shawn looked away. Gus meant well, but he wouldn't be able to treat Nikki the same if he knew the truth. She didn't deserve to have to face that every day. He checked his phone again, waiting for Gus's response.

“OK,” Gus said, putting his hands up in surrender. “I'm just glad she has a place to stay.”

“Me too,” he said. “Now I can buy red vines again.” He checked his phone, then took another sip of coffee. It was almost cool enough to chug. He noticed Gus watching him. “What?”

“Why do you keep checking your phone?” Gus asked. “The last time you checked it that often you got into a fight with Juliet.” He looked accusingly at Shawn. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” he protested. “Jules and I are fine.” He took another sip of coffee. Still too hot. “I spent the morning talking to the nurse who took care of Nikki's mom in Denver. She had some very interesting things to say.” He sat back in his chair, turning slowly from side to side. “Apparently Sarah Peterson hired a private investigator shortly before her death.” He paused for dramatic effect.

“A PI?” Gus asked. “Why would a dying woman hire a PI?”

“To find the father of a daughter about to be left all alone in the world,” Shawn said, adopting a southern accent. He threw back his head and put the back of his hand to his forehead, like an old southern woman feeling faint. Gus just sighed. “One of her other nurses had arranged everything. This one only knew a few details. I was able to get his number but he wasn't in the office. So I left a message.” He decided the coffee had cooled long enough. He downed what was left in one long gulp. He put the empty mug on his desk with a resounding clunk. “I'm waiting for him to call me back.” He checked his phone again, in case he had missed the call while he was talking.

“How much coffee did you have this morning?” Gus asked. He was staring at Shawn's left hand as he asked.

He looked down. His hand was shaking. “Four cups,” he said. “No, wait, five cups. I stopped at Starbucks on the way in.” He moved his hand so it was out of Gus's view.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” Gus asked, eyeing him carefully.

“What time is it?” he asked, stalling.

Gus checked his watch. “10:30.”

He pretended to think for a moment. “Then, around 7.” he said. He saw Gus relax slightly. “Last night.”

Gus stood up. “Come on, let's go.”

“Go where?” he asked, confused.

“You need to eat something before you go into shock.” Gus said. “Remember what happened the last time you drank that much coffee without eating?”

He winced. That had been while his dad was in the hospital with a gunshot wound. He had passed out next to his dad's hospital bed and woken up in one of his own. It had taken two hours to get the doctor to release him. “Fine, let's eat,” he said, standing up. The room spun slightly for a minute, but he was able to keep his balance. He hoped Gus hadn't noticed. “Then we should stop by the station. Jules said they should have a positive ID on the body by this morning.” He walked carefully to the door of the office.

Gus reached it first and held it open for him. He had noticed the shaking. “I worry about you sometimes,” he said, following Shawn out the door. “I know you want to solve these cases, but your own well-being comes first.” He held open the car door for Shawn.

“Why, thank you Jeeves,” Shawn said, getting in the car. He buckled up as Gus went around to his own side of the car. “I didn't do it intentionally. I promised Nikki I would find her father. I can't let her down.” He leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes. He missed the strange look Gus gave him as they pulled away from the office. 

* * *

 

The food seemed to have kickstarted his system and Shawn was finally feeling the rejuvenating effects of all that caffeine. He had a definite spring in his step as he entered the police station, Gus trailing along behind him. He knew he would pay for it later, so he tried to make the most of his wakefulness now.

He spotted Juliet at her desk, back to them. She seemed absorbed with the file in front of her. Never one to pass up an opportunity, he motioned Gus to stay back as he snuck up silently behind her. Once he was in position, he spoke quietly into her ear. “Hi Jules.”

She shrieked and spun around. “Shawn!” she yelled, as he burst into laughter. “Don't do that!” She glared at him, face flush.

"You should have seen your face," he said through the laughter. Her expression of wide-eyed shock was priceless. Gus came up next to him. "Dude, did you see her face?" Gus elbowed him in the side. "What?"

"Shawn, I swear - " Juliet said, voice rising. A snort behind them made her pause. Her scream had attracted the attention of half the station. Shawn could see a few people hiding grins as they surreptitiously watched the drama unfold. She glanced around and her face got even redder. "Shawn," she said, lowering her voice. "Can't you sometimes act professional? Especially here?"

"Oh Jules, where's the fun in that?" he said. She turned back around to face her desk, ignoring him. He glanced at Gus. He just shook his head. Shawn walked around the desk to face Juliet. She looked pissed. He sighed. “I'm sorry I made you scream in front of the whole police station,” he said sincerely. “Even if it was hilarious.”

She looked up at him. He made sure to have his 'serious' face on. He knew she wished he would take things a little more seriously. Especially at work. And he knew how she hated to be embarrassed in front of her coworkers. He had crossed a line and she was right to be angry. “How about next time I make Lassiter scream like a little girl in front of everyone?” he asked, trying to coax a smile from her.

“That would immature,” she said primly. Even so, he could see her trying to hide a smile at the thought.

“Are we ok?” he asked quietly.

She sighed. “Just don't do that again.” She gave him a small smile.

“Promise,” he said, grinning. He clapped his hands. “So, what can you tell us about the body from the park?” Gus came around the desk to hear what Juliet had to say.

“Before I tell you anything, you need to talk to the chief,” she said, her tone all business. “She said she needed to talk to you as soon as you came in.”

“How about you tell me about the body first, then I go see the chief?” he bargained. Getting called in to see the chief was like getting called to the principal's office in high school. He had enough experience in both situations to know to delay as long as possible.

“She was very clearly she wanted to see you right away,” she insisted. She refused to meet his eyes, instead looking somewhere over his shoulder.

“Well, what she doesn't know won't hurt her,” he said conspiratorially. Her eyes flashed to his for a second, then back at something behind him. “Of course, I would never disobey her wishes like that,” he said hurriedly, realizing what she was looking at. “I'm going to go see her right now.” He turned around and acted surprised. “Why Chief, I didn't know you were standing there. I was just coming to find you.” He saw Gus roll his eyes.

“Mr. Spencer,” Vick said with a grin. Shawn was instantly on guard. That grin always meant trouble. “If you're done chatting, I'd like to see you in my office.”

“Why certainly,” he said. He lead the way, Gus following him.

“Not you, Mr. Guster,” Vick said, putting out a hand to stop him. “I'd like to speak to Spencer privately.” Giving Shawn a stare, she starting walking towards her office.

Gus looked worriedly at Shawn, who rolled his eyes. “The chief probably just wants to congratulate me on my work recently,” he said, feigning nonchalance. “If she did it in public, everyone else would get jealous.”

Gus snorted. “Yeah right.” But Shawn's relaxed attitude did seem to lessen his own worry.

“Mr. Spencer,” Vick called from the office doorway.

Shawn saluted and headed towards her. He lead the way inside. Vick closed the doors before sitting down behind her desk.

“Have a seat,” she said, indicating the chairs in front of her desk. He sat and tried to appear unconcerned. “We need to have a talk.”

“We certainly do,” he said, cutting her off. “The vending machine in the break room refuses to give me my Snickers bars. This is the third time I have paid for my delicious peanutty goodness and been left nutless. I demand satisfaction!” He thumped his fist on the armrest of the chair for emphasis.

Vick didn't comment on his antics. Not a good sign. “I have here a report from one of the officers at Howell Park yesterday,” she said, tapping a file on her desk. “Apparently there was a disturbance at the crime scene involving you and a teenage girl?” She phrased the last statement as a question.

“That was my bad chief,” he said, relaxing slightly. He had already established a cover story for Nikki; now he just had to convince the chief of it. “My new apprentice is still unclear on crime scene protocol. She was trying to follow the astral trail of the killer and we got separated.”

“Psychic apprentice?” Vick asked, sounding skeptical.

“Yes Chief,” he said. “I found myself with the yearning to pass on my years of psychic knowledge to the next generation. The next day, my apprentice arrived. She said she felt drawn to my office, a clear sign of psychic compatibility.” He saw the chief about to interrupt but pressed on. He was just getting warmed up and didn't want to stop now. “She will be shadowing me, learning how a true psychic solves crimes. She needs to see what I see, hear what I hear, feel what I feel, taste what - “

“Enough Mr. Spencer,” Vick said, cutting him short. “I just have one question for you.”

“If it's who keeps leaving half eaten donuts in the break room, I think its Dobson. He always seemed like the type to leave things unfinished. That's a sign of a bad work ethic. You should talk to him about it.” He knew he was babbling. But the expression on the chief's face was starting to make him nervous. “And who leaves the half eaten donut just sitting there? Do they honestly belief someone else is going to finish it? I know there's nothing I like better than someone else's slobbered on snacks...” He tapered off into silence. The chief's stare was really starting to unnerve him. And the silence was starting to get uncomfortable.

“What's her name?”

He tried not to tense up. She had asked the question quietly, almost curiously. It was a tone he had heard cops use in interrogations, when they already know the truth and just want to watch the perp sweat. Until he knew exactly where the chief was going with this, the less said the better. “Why do you ask?” he said, keeping his voice level.

“A girl trespasses at a crime scene full of cops, has a psychic vision, then leaves without anyone learning her name. This strikes me as a little odd. One might think someone was hiding her identity deliberately.” The look she gave him told him that is exactly what she thinks.

“You know how the press are at the crime scenes. She's still new at this. I didn't want them to know her name until she's ready.” He was almost proud of himself. That reason sounded legitimate and not made up 10 seconds ago.

“There's no press here now,” Vick pointed out. She looks expectantly at him, waiting for an answer.

“Psychic-apprentice confidentiality.” That one definitely sounded made up. But he was tired and his sluggish brain was slow to come up with foils to the chief's questions.

Vick watched him for a moment, then sighed, looking away. He thought for a moment he won, until she reached into her desk and removed a file. She placed it down carefully, then looked up at him. “In our system, a person becomes flagged if finding them is of the utmost importance. These people are usually high-profile criminals or missing persons. Especially missing children.”

_Crap._ He had a pretty good idea where the chief was going with this.

She opened the file. “If an officer runs a name that is flagged, the chief of police is automatically notified. Detective O'Hara ran just such a name yesterday.” She removed a single sheet from the file. “See if she looks familiar.” She handed him the paper.

He took it, already knowing what it would show. Across the top of the page were the words 'Missing Child.' Underneath was a picture of Nikki and the information Juliet had shared with him yesterday. He looked at the chief. “Chief Vick - “

“O'Hara managed to convince me to speak to you before reporting this to the Denver PD,” she said, cutting him off. She fixed him with a stern look. “Why were you at a crime scene with a missing child?”

“Look, I didn't know she was missing at the time,” he said defensively. “I didn't even bring her to the crime scene. She snuck in on her own. You should probably talk to your boys about that. I would hate to think any member of the SBPD is slacking on the job.” He cut himself off before he could say anymore. Making the chief mad wouldn't help anything. He was off his game today and if he wasn't careful, it would cost him. He couldn't afford to give away anymore information.

“Mr. Spencer, this is serious,” Vick said, face turning red. She stood up and leaned over the desk to glare at him. “Now answer the question.”

“I did,” he said stubbornly. He planned to keep his answers as short as possible.

“Then why did she follow you to the crime scene?” she said with exasperation.

“I'm working on a case for her,” he said tersely.

“What case?” she asked testily.

“I really can't say,” he said evasively.

“This is serious,” she said sharply. “Harboring a runaway is a criminal offense.”

“Do you think I don't know that?” he asked sarcastically, his own temper rising.

“Spencer, give me one good reason why I shouldn't arrest you and bring her in my self,” she snapped angrily.

“Because I promised I would protect her!” he yelled, jumping up. They stared at each other, breathing hard. Vick seemed surprised by his outburst. He couldn't blame her; he was surprised himself. He normally had much better control over his temper. He looked away first, tiredly running a hand over his face. He sat back down in his chair, resting his arms on his knees. He stared at the floor as he gather his thoughts. He heard Vick sit back down at her desk. Looking up at her, he started speaking. “She came by the office on Monday. She wanted to hire us to find her biological father. Her mom wouldn't tell her who he his, so she hoped I could. Gus was against it, but I decided to help her. We had no other cases, and I was tired of constantly beating Gus at video games. Besides, she reminded me of myself as a teenager. I know I didn't get along with my parents.” He smiled wryly at her. “I didn't know how much she was like me until yesterday.”

“When O'Hara did the background check,” Vick guessed. He nodded. She folded her hand, looking at him intently. “Why didn't you want her to report Nikki?”

He leaned back with a sigh. “Contrary to popular belief, most teenagers don't follow through with their plans to run away. And those who do usually have a pretty good reason. She seems like a smart kid. I figured she had to have a good reason to run over a 1,000 miles to get here.” He looked down, hesitant to go on. He had promised to keep what Nikki said to himself. He didn't want to tell the chief until Nikki was ready to face what happened.

“Did she give you a reason?” Vick asked quietly, after he was silent for a couple minutes.

“Yeah,” he said bitterly. “And I promised her I wouldn't send her back to foster care.” He took a deep breath before meeting the chief's gaze. “I just need a little more time to find her father.”

Vick must have read something in his face, because she didn't ask anymore questions. “I can give you until Monday,” she said briskly. “Then I'll have to report her to the Denver PD.”

He let out a small sigh of relief. “Thanks, chief,” he said gratefully. Given the distance to Denver, that would give him about a week before someone showed up in person. If the PI knew the name of her father, he hopefully could have things wrapped up by then.

“Your welcome. Now get back to work. And don't let me hear about your apprentice wandering around any more crime scenes.” She gave him a stern look before gathering up the files on her desk.

Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, he got up and headed to the door.

“And Spencer?”

He turned. The expression on Vick's face had softened. “I know how important it is to find him, but try to get some rest. You look like hell.”

He gave a weary salute. “Will do, chief.”

She just shook her head as he left the room.

Heading back to Juliet's desk, he saw her and Gus conversing quietly. They stopped talking the moment he joined them. Judging by the guilty expressions on their faces, he had been the topic of conversation. “Don't let me interrupt,” he said airily. “I'm sure you're saying all sorts of wonderful things about me.” Looking around, he noticed Lassiter's desk was empty. He grabbed his chair and wheeled it back over to Juliet's desk. Sitting down, he leaned back comfortably in the chair with a sigh. “Please, continue,” he said when the two just looked at him silently.

“What did the chief want to talk about?” Gus asked.

Shawn glanced at Juliet. She looked back guiltily. To Gus he said, “She had a few questions about my new apprentice.” He looked around to make sure no one was listening. “And to ask if there was any connection to a missing girl from Denver,” he added quietly.

“Shawn,” Gus said, worried.

He waved away Gus's concern. “Don't worry, I bought us some time. She agreed not to contact anyone from Denver until Monday.” He gave a yawn before continuing. “Plenty of time to find her dad.” Ignoring Gus's doubtful look, he pulled out his phone. “So what did you find out about the body?” he asked while checking his voicemail. No new messages. Putting it away, he noticed Juliet looking at him with concern. Gus too. “What?”

She shared a look with Gus before speaking. “We're worried you're pushing yourself too hard with these cases. I know you haven't been sleeping well. And Gus told me about this morning.”

He glared at Gus. “Traitor,” he said. Gus just shrugged, still looking worried. He turned back to Juliet. “I'm fine. Just a little tired.” He noticed she was staring at his left hand. Looking down, he saw his hand trembling again. He clenched it into a fist and covered it with his other hand. Meeting her concerned gaze, he grinned sheepishly. “I guess I'm still a little jittery from the coffee.”

“Shawn - “

“Jules,” he said, cutting her off. “I can handle it. There's nothing to worry about.” Gus tapped him on the shoulder, but he ignored him, focusing on Juliet. He held her gaze steadily. “I'm fine,” he repeated. He could see the moment when she gave in. He smiled brightly at her. “Besides, what would the department do without its head psychic detective?” he asked, leaning back in the chair.

She rolled her eyes. “We solve plenty of cases without you, Shawn.”

“But you solve even more with me,” he replied.

“Um, Shawn?” Gus said, trying to get his attention.

“In a minute,” he said, dismissively. He leaned in closer to her desk. “Now, how about the prettiest detective in the department tells us about the latest victim?”

“Spencer!”

He barely managed to keep from jumping. Leaning as far back in the chair as he could, he looked up into the frowning visage of one Carlton Lassiter. “Hey Lassie!” he said brightly. He tilted his head. “You know from here, it looks like your smiling.”

“Get out of my chair,” Lassiter said slowly.

He spun the chair around to face Lassiter. “But it's so comfee,” he whined. He slouched down into the chair, unwillingly to give it up.

“Spencer,” Lassiter growled.

“Is this because I called Jules the prettiest detective here?” he asked, enjoying himself. It was so much fun to mess with Lassie. “Don't worry. I think you're pretty too.” He bat his eyelashes at him.

Lassiter put his hands on the armrests of the chair and leaned right into his face. “Get. Up.”

He smirked at Lassiter. “Make me,” he dared.

“Shawn,” Juliet said warningly.

Lassiter moved. Before he could react, Lassiter had spun the chair around and dumped him on the floor. He watched as Lassiter calmly wheeled the chair away. “That was uncool,” he yelled after him. Lassiter just smirked as he sat at his desk.

Gus reached down and gave him a hand up off the floor. He brushed himself off while Juliet shook her head. “Can't you two ever get along?” she asked.

He gave her a grin. “Like I've said before, where's the fun in that?” He came around and perched on the edge of her desk. “Now; the body.”

She sighed and pulled out a file. She handed it to him. “You were right. We were able to positively ID the body as Samuel Cooper. Woody was able to put time of death between 11 pm and 1 am Wednesday night. Cause of death was blood loss from the gash on the neck. Judging by the depth and angle of the cut, we know the killer is left handed and was standing behind the victim when he slashed his throat.”

“Smart,” he said, looking through the file. It contained the usual background info on the victim. No prior arrests or charges. No known association with any criminal elements. The roommate described him as a pretty easy going guy. There was nothing to explain why someone would want to kill him. “Cooper wouldn't have seen him coming and the killer would have avoided most of the blood splatter.”

“Exactly,” she agreed. “The acid used to burn his face and hands was a concentrated form of hydrofluoric acid. At that concentration, the most likely place it could have come from is - “

“A chemistry lab,” he said, glancing at Gus. His hunch that the two bodies were related was right.

“We had CSI reexamine both labs,” she continued. “They found traces of blood in Pratt's. We're waiting on lab results but we're pretty sure it's Cooper's. They also found a jug of hydrofluoric acid that looked like it had been recently used. They were able to lift a partial print. Nothing matched in the system, so we're checking everyone who had access to the lab storeroom.”

He closed the file. Something about the case didn't add up. He felt like he was missing something. Why Pratt's lab? “What did Pratt have to say about all this?”

She shook her head. “That man is an insufferable jackass,” she said with vehemence. “His lawyer managed to convince a judge that the fingerprints on the murder weapon were not enough evidence to charge him. Since his release, he has been threatening to sue the department for false arrest and defamation.” She snorted. “I wish he was guilty just so I could have the satisfaction of throwing that smug bastard in jail for the rest of his life.”

He was surprised by the outburst. He glanced at Gus and saw an equally surprised expression on his face. He rarely saw her so worked up over a suspect. Her face was flushed and she was breathing hard. This guy sure had a way with people. “Jules, honey, calm down. Take deep breaths.” He took an exaggerated breath, motioning for her to copy him. After several such breaths, she seemed to calm down. “Don't let this guy get to you.”

“I know,” she snapped. She took another deep breath and smiled apologetically at him. “He just as a way of knowing exactly what to say to get a reaction out of you.”

He nodded. He had noticed the same thing. “I sense he will get his comeuppance someday,” he said mysteriously.

She looked at him hopefully. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he said. He was rewarded by her happy, if slightly vindictive smile. He frowned as something she had said earlier occurred to him. “What about the hair?”

“What hair?” she asked, puzzled.

“The one found at the crime scene,” he said. “You mentioned the lawyer got the fingerprints called into question, but not the hair.”

She thought for a moment. “Right, that hair,” she said suddenly. “I almost forgot about it, since the fingerprints were enough evidence to hold him.” She flipped through a file until she found the right page. “Turns out the hair wasn't even human. The lab matched it to _Felis catus_.”

“A house cat?” Gus asked. “What would cat hair be doing in a chemistry lab?” He looked over at Shawn as the psychic suddenly stood up. “Shawn?”

Something had clicked in Shawn's mind. The missing piece he had been looking for, or at least part of it. There had been a guy at the crime scene when he and Gus had been talking with Cooper. A guy with cat scratches on his hand. “Have you been able to track down everyone who had access to the supply room?” he asked Juliet urgently.

“Almost everyone,” she said, surprised at his tone. “We're still trying to contact one or two.”

He put his hand to his head. “I'm sensing one of those is our killer. Someone with the last name Newton.” He saw Gus's eyes widen, recognizing the name.

She pulled out the list of suspects. “There is a Timothy Newton, one of Sanders' post doc students. We haven't been able to reach him.”

“That's it! That's our killer,” he said excitedly. He loved the feeling when the pieces started coming together. He still needed to figure out why Newton did it, but he was one step closer to solving the case.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“He's right.” Shawn turned. Lassiter was watching them from his desk. He had obviously heard what Shawn had said. “Sanders received a number of threatening emails from Newton in the week leading up to his death.” He regarded their slightly shocked expressions. “What?”

Shawn cleared his throat. “Did you just agree with me? This is a first.” He turned away to face the station. “Carlton Lassiter, the Carlton Lassiter, just agreed with Shawn Spencer,” he announced to everyone.

Lassiter just rolled his eyes. “O'Hara, do you have an address for Newton?” he asked, standing up.

“Right here.” she said, brandishing a sheet of paper.

“Let's go.” Lassiter grabbed his jacket and headed out of the station. Juliet got up and followed him. “You coming Spencer?” he called back over his shoulder.

Shawn stared after Lassiter. “It's a sign of the Apocalypse. It has to be,” he said.

“Maybe he's just starting to tolerate you,” Gus said. “You have been working together for seven years. He was bound to warm up eventually.”

“Spencer!”

“I'm betting pod people,” he said. Gus shook his head. They hurried after the two detectives. 

* * *

 

Lassiter's truce was short lived. He barely gave Shawn and Gus time to get in their own car before tearing out of the station parking lot. And he seemed determined to lose them as they followed behind the detective to the house. As a result, he and Gus arrived at Newton's place a few minutes after Lassiter and Juliet. The detectives were already out of the car and approaching the house. Lassiter turned as the guys headed up the path.

“About time Spencer,” Lassiter said. “Did you get lost?” He smirked at Shawn, dodging Juliet's elbow to his side.

“The spirits seemed a little confused as to the exact location of the house,” Shawn said. Juliet glared at her partner, aware that he had been trying to lose Shawn and Gus on the way over. “Luckily I was able to straighten them out.” And luckily he had seen the sheet of paper with Newton's address on it at the station, or they never would have found the place.

“Well, now that you and your 'spirits' are here, you get a chance to watch a real detective at work,” Lassiter said arrogantly.

“Great. While Juliet is working, what will you be doing?” He watched Lassiter's ears turned red.

“Guys! Focus!” Juliet snapped. “We're here to find a possible murderer.”

“Just stay out of my way,” Lassiter said, glaring at Shawn. He turned and headed towards the house. Juliet shook her head as she hurried to catch up with him. Shawn and Gus followed along at a more leisurely pace.

It was a blue, two-story house with a porch. It seemed in good repair but Shawn noticed the paint starting to peel. The yard was small but well kept. No weeds, and the grass looked like it had been cut recently. A path of paving stones led from the street to the porch. As he climbed the steps, he noticed faint muddy footprints leading up to the front door. There was a small, muddy spot near the door, as if something had been left sitting there.

“SBPD!” Lassiter called. “Open up.” He knocked on the door. It moved inward slightly when he touched it. Motioning Juliet back, he pulled out his sidearm. Juliet followed suit. “You two stay out here.” he said to Shawn and Gus. When Juliet was in position next to the door, he kicked it open. Gun outstretched, he checked all visible areas before cautiously entering. Juliet looked at Shawn and pointed to the porch, clearly telling him to stay put. She then followed Lassiter inside the house.

Shawn immediately started to follow Juliet inside. Gus grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Dude, we were told to stay here,” he whispered, pulling Shawn away from the door.

“When have I ever listened to what someone tells me to do?” he asked quietly. He slipped out of Gus's grip and headed to the door again.

Gus jumped in front of him. “You promised Juliet you would stop putting yourself in dangerous situations.”

“There are two cops in there with guns. I'll be fine.” He tried to get around Gus and through the door.

Gus crossed his arms, not budging. “And how many times have you been threatened in just that situation?”

“Fine!” he whisper yelled, throwing up his arms. “We'll wait.” He walked over to the porch rail and leaned back against it, glaring at Gus.

After what seemed like an hour (but was probably only a few minutes), Juliet appeared in the doorway. “It's clear. You guys can come in.”

He started towards the door only to have Gus jump in front of him again. “Dude, we're allowed in now,” he said in vexation.

“I know,” Gus said calmly. “But remember the rules. I do not enter a place first or last.” He turned to Juliet. “After you.”

Shooting Shawn a confused look, Juliet led Gus into the house. Shawn brought up the rear, wondering why he let Gus make those stupid rules in the first place.

Once they were all inside the house, Juliet turned to them. “You can look, but don't touch anything.” She stared particularly hard at Shawn when she said this.

“Come on,” he scoffed. “When have I ever tampered with a crime scene?” She opened her mouth to speak. “Intentionally?” he added quickly.

“Don't worry, I'll make sure he behaves,” Gus said.

Taking offense to that, he gave Gus a shove. Not one to let a shove go unanswered, Gus shoved him back, harder. He returned the shove, knocking Gus back a step. The two went back and forth a few times until Gus gave a particularly hard shove that knocked Shawn into an end table. He barely managed to catch it before it hit the ground. The picture that was on top of the table clattered to the floor but luckily didn't break.

Juliet watched the whole exchange with a frown on her face, arms folded. “Are you two children done yet?” she asked after he had righted the table. “We have actual work to do.”

“He started it,” he muttered.

“I did not, you started,” Gus accused.

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Did not times infinity!”

“Did not times infinity plus one!”

“Boys!” Juliet yelled, interrupting them. “Seriously?” She glared at both of them. “You are two grown men. Act like it.”

“O'Hara!” Lassiter yelled from upstairs. “Get up here!”

“Coming!” she called back. Turning to the guys, she gave them each a hard look. The look she gave Shawn was tinged slightly with disappointment. He looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “Try to behave yourselves.” She headed up the stairs.

“Great,” he said angrily, once she was out of earshot. “Now I'm in trouble with Jules.” He glared at Gus.

“Don't blame me, Shawn,” Gus snapped back. “You started the whole thing. You could have stopped at any time. It's not my fault you are incapable of acting like an adult.”

He thought it was rich for Gus to say that, considering he had been acting just as childish as he was. But he was probably embarrassed he had acted that way himself. And Gus had a point. He knew Juliet wished he would act more mature and so far he was failing miserably. It wasn't Gus's fault. He sighed. “You're right. Sorry dude.” He held out his fist.

Gus bumped it. “Apology accepted.”

With the air clear between the two friends, he took a good look at the house. They were in a hallway that ran to the back of the house. There were stairs in front of them that led up to a second story. The room to their left appeared to be a living room; the room to their right a dining room.

The first thing that struck him was how clean everything was. The shoes were lined up neatly by the door. The mail seemed to be sorted into three piles; junk, bills, and personal. The personal pile only contained a single letter, from a James Newton. There were hooks for keys, with little labels for each one. The keys for 'house' and 'car' were missing. From what he could see of the other rooms, the rest of the house was just as tidy. The only thing out of place was the picture that had fallen off the table he had knocked over.

“This guy sure was a neat freak,” Gus said. He glanced into the room on the left. “It almost looks like a showroom. You'd think the house was empty if it wasn't for all the DVDs on the shelves.” He entered the room to get a closer look.

“Anything good?” he asked. He crouched down to pick up the picture on the floor. It showed two boys, one obviously Newton, at a cabin in the woods. There was a lake in the background that looked vaguely familiar. Looking past the picture, he noticed several red splotches on the otherwise immaculate carpet. He looked behind him. The splotches seemed to start at the front door. Following it with his eyes, he saw continued into the hallway and down to a door on the far right.

“Nothing we haven't already seen,” Gus said, coming back into the hallway. He looked down at Shawn. “Did you find something?”

He handed Gus the picture. “Newton and what is probably his brother at a cabin in the woods. Might be a family place. It's a good place to start looking for him. It seems pretty isolated.” He stood up, stretching his back. “There's also what appears to be a trail of blood going down the hallway.” He pointed to the splotches on the floor.

“Blood?” Gus asked, putting the picture down. “Are you sure?”

“Let's find out.” He followed the blood trail down the hallway to an open doorway. Going inside, he found himself in a small bathroom. The blood drops ended at the door. He started snooping around, looking for clues.

Gus stopped in the doorway. “What are you looking for?” he asked, watching Shawn scour the bathroom.

“This,” Shawn said. He picked up a trash can and held it out to Gus. Inside was a lab coat, slightly damp, with blood on the left sleeve. “What would you bet that this is Cooper's blood?”

Gus waved the can away, looking slightly green. “OK, so we have established Newton is the killer.” Shawn put the trash can back where he found it and joined Gus in the hallway. “The question is why.”

“Cooper is obvious,” Shawn said. He started down the hallway back towards the front door. Gus followed him. “He found out that Newton killed Sanders and had to be silenced. Cooper probably confronted him in the lab and he had to act quick. That's why this murder is messier than the first one.” He reached the stairs and started up them to the second floor.

“Then why kill Sanders?” Gus asked.

“That's what we need to find out,” he said, reaching the top of the stairs. He could hear voices coming from the second room on the left. “Let's see what Lassie and Jules found first.” He went down the hallway and entered the room.

Lassiter and Juliet were conversely quietly in the corner. After a quick glance, he already knew several things. One; Newton had a weird obsession with the Incredible Hulk. The bedspread, posters, even action figures, showed the green hero. Two; Gus was becoming way too interested in said superhero memorabilia. And three - “I'm sensing Newton left in a hurry.”

Lassiter snorted. “Tell me something I don't know.” While the rest of the house was immaculate, this room was not. Drawers were left open. Clothing was strewn about on the bed. The closet was open and looked like it had been dug through, then had its contents thrown haphazardly back inside. A bare spot on the in front of a monitor with loose wires showed where a laptop once was. In short, even the most rookie cop could tell someone packed in a hurry. Still –

“Polar bears are left handed,” he said.

Lassiter looked at him in confusion. “What does that have to do with the case?”

“You asked me to tell you something you don't know,” he explained. “Did you know polar bears are left handed?”

“No – “

“Then there you go.” He paused. “Although the killer was also left handed, so I guess it could have something to do with the case.”

“Are you suggesting a polar bear killed Sanders?” Lassiter asked skeptically.

“Of course not,” he laughed. “That would be ridiculous.” He grabbed a notebook off of Newton's desk and threw it to Lassiter.

He just managed to catch it. “Spencer, what the hell are you doing?” he asked angrily.

“Check the handwriting. I'm betting Newton is left handed. Just like our killer.” He gave Lassiter a smug look. “Or you could check the downstairs bathroom. I'm sensing there is a lab coat that may have traces of the victim's blood on it.”

Lassiter passed the notebook to Juliet. “Let's check it out. If he's right, we'll call forensics.” He gave Shawn a stern look. “Don't touch anything,” he said forcefully before heading out the door.

“Good work, Shawn,” Juliet said. She smiled at him as she headed after Lassiter.

“And like that, I'm back in Jules' good graces,” he said, taking a bow. “I am just that good.”

“You still need to figure out why Newton killed Sanders,” Gus said.

He threw Gus a disgruntled look. “Can't you let me have my moment?” he whined.

“Your moment doesn't pay the bills,” Gus answered.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Well, Lassiter and Jules probably picked over this room pretty well. Let's go check out the others.”

They went back out to the hallway. Shawn opened the door directly across from them. “Nope,” he said after a quick peek inside. He went to the next one. “Nope.” And the next one. “Nope.” He had almost circled back to Newton's room before he found a likely candidate. It was locked. “Gus, open this door.”

Gus came over and tried to turn the handle. “It's locked.”

He rolled his eyes. “I know that. Pick the lock.”

“I don't know how to pick locks,” Gus said.

“I thought you had that subscription to a safe cracking magazine,” he said, puzzled.

“That's for safes, not locks,” Gus said. “Picking locks is illegal. Figuring out safe combinations is not.”

He sighed. On to plan B. “Then go watch the stairs for Lassie and Jules,” he said. He knelt down in the front of the lock and pulled a small packet from his pocket.

“Are those lockpicks Shawn?” Gus asked nervously. “Do you know how much trouble we'll be in if you're caught with those?”

“That's why I asked you to watch the stairs,” he explained. “Now let me concentrate.” Gus walked over to the stairs and worriedly looked down them. Shawn examined the lock. It had been a few years since he had done this, so he was a little out of practice. He selected his picks and got to work.

“Bingo,” he said after a couple of minutes. He waved Gus over and entered the room.

It appeared to be a combination library slash laboratory. One half of the room contained a desk with bookcases lining the walls. The other half contained a table covered in lab equipment. The shelves along that side of the room were filled with more equipment and chemicals. Gus headed over to the table while Shawn went to check out the desk.

“This looks like a replica of Sanders' experiment,” Gus said after a moment. “There's some notes here as well.” He picked up a notebook, knocking a beaker on the floor in the process.

Shawn looked up from the desk at the sound of shattering glass. “Dude, Jules said don't touch anything,” he complained. He walked around the desk and over to Gus.

Gus rolled his eyes at him and bent down to clean up the glass. He glanced under the table and fell back with a yelp.

Shawn peered under the table. Two yellow eyes stared back at him from the darkness. “It's just a cat,” he said, looking at Gus with scorn. “Man up.”

Gus looked at the cat. It hissed at him. “That thing is evil Shawn.”

“Nonsense,” he said. “He's just scared. He's been locked up all alone for hours and just wants company.” His voice quickly dissolved into that cutesy tone used when talking to animals. He reached under the table towards the cat. Quick as a flash, it clawed his hand. “Son of a bitch!” he cursed, pulling back. Four claw marks covered the back of his hand.

“Told you,” Gus said smugly. “You can never trust a cat.”

“Well unless the cat wants to live under that table for the rest of its life, it has to come out,” he said. He had always had a soft spot for cats. With Newton on the run, the poor thing needed someone to take care of it. The least he could do was bring it to a shelter. He reached cautiously toward the cat again. It waited until he was almost touching it before shooting past him out into the room. In the light he could see it was a gray tabby. It ran to Newton's desk and jumped on top. Sending papers flying, it scrambled across the desk and launched itself through the door.

Shawn and Gus just sat there a moment, absorbing what happened. “At least it's not under the table anymore,” Shawn said at last. Ignoring Gus's disgruntled look, he took in the mess the cat had made. “Think Lassiter will believe the cat did it?”

Gus sighed. “I'll clean up the glass. You pick up the papers.” He went to get a dustpan.

Shawn walked over to the desk and survived the damage. Nearly everything from the desk's surface had ended up on the floor. He couldn't help but feel somewhat impressed. The cat had caused maximum dispersion of the desk's contents in under three seconds. He distantly heard yelling and a loud thud downstairs. It sounded like Lassiter and Juliet had found the cat. Knowing he didn't have a lot of time, he started picking up papers. He frowned as he noticed that some of the pages looked familiar. He grabbed a handful and quickly started sorting through them on the desk. He soon had several separate piles.

“What are you doing?”

He looked up. Gus had finished cleaning up the glass and had come to stand in front of the desk. He handed Gus one of the piles. “Look at this.”

Gus glanced at it. “It's a paper on a new plastic polymer,” he said, puzzled.

“Now check the dates of the experiments,” he said.

Gus flipped the pages. “May 2006 to April 2008.” He looked up at Shawn. “So?”

“When I was doing research on Sanders, I looked at some of his recent research articles.” He pointed to the article in Gus's hand. “This paper almost exactly matches one of his articles. Only the dates of the experiments were changed.”

“Why would Newton have a research paper of Sanders' with different dates?” Gus asked, puzzled.

“He wouldn't,” he said. “Unless the dates of the published papers were wrong. And this is the original.” He pointed to the paper in Gus' hand. “Sanders is his advisor. I bet Newton gave him the paper to review before he published it.”

“So Sanders stole one of his research papers?” Gus asked. He gave a low whistle. “That's cold.”

“Not just one,” he said. He gestured to the piles on the desk. “I'd say at least five, if not more. Probably all the recent papers he published he stole from Newton.”

“That would make a guy pretty angry,” Gus said, getting excited.

“And that, my friend, is motive,” he said with satisfaction. He and Gus bumped fists just as they heard noises in the hallway. “Quick, throw the papers back on the floor.” He swept the pages off the desk, scattering them on the floor.

“Why?” Gus asked. Shawn grabbed the papers from his hand and threw them on the pile. He pulled Gus to the other side of the room. “Can't you ever just tell them anything?” Gus asked, catching on to what Shawn was doing.

“What kind of psychic would I be if I did that?” he asked innocently. He quickly put his hand out and closed his eyes, adopting an expression of fierce concentration. Moments later Lassiter and Juliet entered the room.

Lassiter surveyed the wreckage of the room. “Spencer, I told you not to touch anything,” he said angrily.

“It was not I who moved these objects,” he said in a lofty voice, eyes still closed.

“I swear, if you say it was the spirits,” Lassiter said. Shawn fought the urge to smile. He could imagine the shade of red Lassiter was turning.

“It was a cat,” Gus said quickly, giving Shawn a nudge.

“You mean that poor gray tabby we saw downstairs?” Juliet asked in a soft voice. From her tone, Shawn could tell she was worried about the cat too.

“You mean that gray menace that tried to kill me,” Lassiter corrected.

“It did not try to kill you,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It was scared.”

“It was on the attack,” Lassiter said fiercely. “It tripped me into that table.”

“Can we focus people?” Shawn asked, opening his eyes. “I'm trying to divine something here.” He wasn't used to being ignored while having one of his 'visions.'

Lassiter leaned back against the doorframe. “Go ahead. Divine away.” He looked at his watch. “You have 15 minutes until forensics shows up. Make it fast.”

“So I was right about the lab coat?” he asked. He already knew he was right, but he just loved hearing it.

Lassiter nodded grudgingly. “The coat was where you said it would be, blood and all.”

“We also found shards of glass in one of the pockets,” Juliet added. “We're hoping it matches the shard found in Cooper's neck.”

“So we have the killer,” Shawn said. “Now we just need motive.” He closed his eyes and pretended to concentrate. He gave a fake wince. “I sense the killer was here, hatching his plan. He replicated one of Sanders experiments, tried to determine how to make it go horrible wrong.” Opening his eyes, he went over to the table, pretending to 'sense' the glassware. He stopped over the two beakers he remembered having the wrong chemicals in them. “Right here, he made a switch.” He grabbed the notebook Gus had pointed out off the table and threw it to Lassiter. “All that is explained in here. But why did he do it?” He started licking his hand and rubbing his face. He got down on all fours and crawled over to Lassiter. “Meow,” he said, rubbing against him.

Lassiter pushed him away violently. “Knock it off!” He looked over at Gus questioningly.

“He's channeling Newton's cat,” Gus explained.

Shawn continued crawling around the room. He went over to the pile of papers next to the desk and started scratching at them. “Meow,” he said, looking pointedly at Lassiter and Juliet.

She hurried over, while Lassiter followed reluctantly. As she started to pick up the papers, Shawn pretended to snap out of his trance. He got up off the floor and collapsed into Newton's desk chair, breathing heavily.

She spread the pages across Newton's desk. “These look like research papers.” She started sorting them into piles, like he had done earlier.

Lassiter picked up one of the piles and leafed through it. “This paper looks familiar,” he said.

She looked over his shoulder. “I'm pretty sure that's one of Sanders' research papers. I glanced through a couple when doing the background check. He published half a dozen papers in the last few months.”

“I'm sensing something about the dates,” Shawn said, squinting his eyes and putting his hand to his head. “The dates in these papers don't match the dates in the published papers.”

“Why would Sanders change the dates of his experiments?” she asked. “It shouldn't matter when the experiments took place.”

“It does if your rival is watching everything you do,” he replied. “A rival that knows all the research you are pursuing. A rival that happened to take a sabbatical seven months ago.”

“During which time no one was paying close attention to what work Sanders was doing in his lab,” Lassiter said slowly.

Shawn nodded encouragingly. The detective was almost there. “Or if he was doing any research at all.”

“Sanders was Newton's advisor,” Lassiter said, putting it together. “He would have reviewed anything Newton was planning to publish.” He looked over at Juliet as comprehension dawned on her face.

“Sanders stole Newton's research – “ Juliet started.

“ – And passed if off as his own.” Lassiter finished.

“That seems like pretty solid motive to me,” Shawn said, standing up. “Looks like my work here is done.”

Lassiter was busy sorting the pages into separate papers. Juliet nudged him. He looked at her and rolled his eyes. He mumbled something.

“I don't think he heard that,” she said coaxingly.

Lassiter cleared his throat. “Um, good work Spencer,” he said gruffly. He never looked up from sorting the papers.

“Thanks Lassiepants,” Shawn said. “Always happy to do – help you do your job.” He changed his sentence midflow at a look from Juliet. She nodded approvingly at him.

After a moment of awkward silence, he said, “Time to go Gus.” He grabbed his friend by the arm and pulled him from the room.

As they headed down the stairs, he noticed Gus grinning smugly at him. “What?”

“She owns you man,” Gus said. “You and Lassiter.”

“She does not own me,” he said with great resentment. No woman told Shawn Spencer what to do. Well, except maybe in bed. But those were more requests than orders.

“So it was your idea to have that very touching moment with Lassiter?” Gus asked, grinning.

“I was just trying to make her happy,” he said in defense. He moved aside to let the forensics people past before heading out the front door.

“So her happiness is more important than what you want?” Gus asked, still grinning.

“Yes. No. I don't know.” He threw up his arms in frustration. “She does not own me.”

“Whatever you say,” Gus said, getting into the car.

Shawn joined him. “Just for that, you're paying for jerked chicken,” he said, buckling up.

“We can't,” Gus said. “I have a date tonight and you have dinner at your dad's.”

He groaned. He forgot he was supposed to go over to his dad's tonight. Of course, Nikki would be there. He pulled out his phone. Still no calls. He sighed. “What am I going to tell her?” he asked quietly.

Gus looked at him seriously. “The truth. You're doing everything you can to find her dad. Sometimes it just takes time.”

“But what if I don't find him in time? What if she has to go back to foster care?” He heard the slight panic in his voice. He didn't know when Nikki had become so important to him, but he could barely stand the thought of letting her down.

“You'll find him,” Gus said with confidence. “You've solved harder cases than this one.”

He was right. “Thanks man,” he said.

“No problem,” Gus said. He looked at the time. “I've got to hurry. Rachel likes me to arrive early for our dates so we have extra time to talk.”

“Now who's owned by their woman?” he asked mockingly. He laughed at the glare Gus gave him. He was still laughing as they pulled away. 

* * *

 

Shawn stared pensively out the window, sipping a beer. He was at his dad's place, standing in the kitchen. Henry was outside, grilling up some steaks. Nikki was upstairs, probably snooping around. With time to himself and nothing to do, his mind was free to wander. The blood on the lab coat was a preliminary match for Cooper's blood type. The glass shards matched those found in the wound, which the lab now surmised came from a broken beaker. They had enough evidence to charge Newton but still needed to find him. An APB was out on his car, but no one knew where he was heading. He should be trying to determine Newton's next move. Instead, his mind kept straying to the girl upstairs. He pulled out his phone. Still no calls.

“You should tell her.”

He turned around. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn't heard his dad enter the kitchen. He had pulled his father aside soon after he arrived and filled him in on what was going on with Nikki's case. Including the meeting with Vick. “What, are you the psychic now?” he asked, leaning back against the counter.

Henry pointed to the phone still in his hand. “Just observant.” He crossed to the fridge and pulled out a beer. He cracked it open and took a swig. “She's a tough kid. She deserves to know what's going on.”

“I'll have a few extra days before the Denver PD can send someone down here,” Shawn said, putting his phone away.

“Time you'll need to convince the father to take the kid,” Henry pointed out.

“She's a great kid. Who wouldn't want her?” he asked, being deliberately optimistic.

“You know as well as I do that the world doesn't always work that way,” Henry said. He put down his beer and crossed his arms, regarding Shawn seriously. “What are you going to do if he doesn't want to take her? Or you can't find him in time?”

“I'm not sending her back to foster care,” he said stubbornly. “I promised I would help her and that is what I'm going to do.”

“You can't save everyone kid. Fact of life,” Henry said. He patted Shawn on the shoulder before leaving the room.

“I don't need to save everyone,” he muttered to himself. “Just her.” He picked at the label of the beer bottle. With the deadline looming, he had been wondering what would happen to Nikki if he failed. He couldn't send her back into the system. And she had no other family to go to. He had been vaguely toying with the idea of fostering her himself, if only as a last resort.

He heard someone pounding down the stairs. It gave him just enough warning to put a grin on his face before Nikki bounded into the room. “Hey Nikki.”

“Hey Shawn!” she said. “Is dinner done yet? I'm starving.” She was dressed in the same clothes he had first seen her in. A smudge of dirt stretched across one cheek, as if she had absentmindedly wiped her face while digging through some dusty old boxes. Like one was bound to find in an attic.

“First, you should probably clean that up,” he said, tapping his cheek.

She touched her own cheek and noticed the dirt. She grinned sheepishly. “I can explain,” she said quickly.

“Just wash it off and don't say anything to my dad,” he said. He moved out of the way so she could reach the sink. “By the way, all the good stuff is in the far right corner,” he added offhandedly.

She looked up at him. “I'll have to remember that,” she said cheekily.

“Food's ready.” Henry called from the back porch.

“Let's eat,” she said. She quickly dried her hands and lead the way out the door.

They sat around the table on the back porch, helping themselves to corn on the cob and mashed potatoes while Henry dished out the steaks. As soon as she filled her plate, Nikki attacked the food with gusto. Shawn had seen wild animals attack their food with less ferocity. After a couple of minutes, she seemed to notice Shawn and Henry staring at her. She quickly swallowed the food in her mouth. “I'm eating too fast again, aren't I?” she asked Shawn.

“Just a little,” he lied. He was still surprised at how quickly she could consume food. It didn't seem humanly possible. “It's not going anywhere. Remember to take time to chew your food. And breathing. That's important too.”

She glared at him before turning to Henry. “The food is very good,” she said.

“Glad you like it,” Henry said, pleased. He pointed his fork at Shawn. “Shawn here never seems to appreciate my cooking. That's why he never stops by anymore.”

“It's not the cooking, it's the lecturing,” he corrected. “That, and the incident.” He shuddered, remembering the time he had accidently walked in on his parents having sex.

“What incident?” she asked curiously.

“Don't ask,” Shawn and Henry said together. They looked at each other, surprised they had managed to agree on something. Nikki just shrugged and continued eating.

They enjoyed a few minutes of comfortable silence, a rare event in the Spencer household. Put him and his father in the same room and a fight was bound to happen. Things may be peaceful now, but it wouldn't last for long.

“So,” Nikki said slowly, her tone drawing his full attention. “Did you find out anything about my father?” She stared down at her plate, toying with her food.

“I did,” he said. She looked up at him, hope mixed with caution in her eyes. “I'm waiting to here back from someone but if we're lucky, he'll know your father's name.” He met his own father's gaze, shaking his head. He wasn't going to burden her with the rest. Henry seemed to disapprove but nodded.

She took a deep breath before asking the next question. “Do you think he'll want me?” Her voice was very quiet.

“Um.” He looked at his father, unsure how to answer her question.

“No matter what happens, you'll always have a place here if you need it,” Henry said.

“Thank you Henry,” she said gratefully, giving him a warm smile.

He just stared at his father in surprise. Old age sure had changed him. He never would have opened his doors to a complete stranger like this before.

Henry noticed his stare and turned red. “I'm gonna get another beer,” he said, standing up. “Anyone want anything?” Shawn and Nikki shook their heads. He walked around the table and into the house.

Nikki had finished off her first plate and was filling up a second one. Scooping up mashed potatoes, she asked, “How's the Sanders' case coming?”

He was still pondering his father's strange gesture of kindness and didn't answer right away. “It's going good,” he said after she repeated the question. “Great in fact. We figured out who the killer is. And by we I mean me of course.”

“What tipped you off?” she asked eagerly.

“We already knew the killer had to have access to the lab,” he began. Henry came out of the house, beer in hand, and sat down at the table. “There was a gray cat hair found at the crime scene. I remembered one of the guys we talked to had a cat scratch on his hand. He knew Cooper and worked closely with Sanders. I convinced the police to check out his house.” He paused to take a sip of beer.

“Should you be discussing the case with her?” Henry asked bluntly. “Remember what happened last time?”

“How was I supposed to know she was a reporter?” he asked. His dad just gave him a look. “Ok, so maybe I was a little drunk.” A lot drunk, he corrected silently in his head. Vick had cut him off from cases for a month after that incident. “Besides, this is a completely different situation. She's my psychic apprentice, so I have to share cases with her.” He regretted the words the instant they were out of his mouth.

“Psychic apprentice?” Henry asked sharply.

He winced. “It was a spur of the moment decision.” One he had planned to never tell his father about. “She crashed a crime scene. I was trying to keep her out of jail.” He looked defensively at Henry. “Was I supposed to let her get arrested.”

“She wouldn't have been at the crime scene if she didn't already know about the case,” Henry said shrewdly.

“Technically, she figured out the case on her own,” he said, defending himself. This is why he hated discussing things with the ex cop. “Tell him Nikki.”

“It's true,” she said. Henry turned to look at her. She wilted slightly under the force of his glare. “I guessed what case he was working on and pestered him until he told me about it.” Her voice grew more and more quiet until it was nearly inaudible by the end.

He turned his glare on Shawn. “You need to start acting more responsibly. You can't bring a kid into these kind of dangerous situations.”

“It's not like I'm bringing her to drug busts or to chase down hostile suspects,” Shawn said angrily. He wasn't that irresponsible. “We're just talking about the case. She's been a big help already.” He looked at Nikki proudly. She gave small smile, still looking worriedly at Henry.

Henry stared at him silently for a moment. “Fine. But you're responsible if anything happens to her.”

“Nothing's going to happen,” he said with exasperation. Henry just grunted.

There was a moment of awkward silence. “Well, go on,” Henry said at last. “What did you find in the house?”

He grinned. His father couldn't resist hearing about his cases. As much as he complained about Shawn coming to him for help, he loved being involved. “We found evidence to link him to both Cooper's and Sanders' murders. He had even made a replica of Sanders' experiment, complete with notes on possible ways to tamper with it. I also 'divined' why he did it, with the help of his cat.”

“Was it a cute cat?” Nikki asked eagerly.

It looked like he had found another cat lover. He thought back to the glimpse he had had of the cat as it shot out of the room. “Yeah, sure,” he said, absentmindedly rubbing the cat scratches on his hand. She sighed happily. He would never understand women's fascination with the cuteness of a cat. It was a fierce, proud animal, not a cuddly plaything. Whatever. Back to the case. “The reason he did it –“

“What color was the cat?” she asked, cutting him off.

“Gray,” he said shortly. He saw his father smirking at him and chose to ignore it. “He did it because – “

“What will happen to the cat now?” she asked urgently. She seemed genuinely worried about the well-being of the cat.

He sighed. “I don't know. It will probably end up at the animal shelter.” He thought about how wild the cat was. “If someone is able to catch it.”

“Poor thing,” she said sadly. He could see how upset this was making her. Truth be told, he wasn't happy about the cat's situation either. He didn't like the idea of it wandering the streets, cold and hungry. He wondered if there was a way he could catch it.

“No, Shawn,” Henry said, interrupting his thoughts. “I know what you're thinking. No cats. Not in my house.”

“I wasn't thinking that,” he said irritably. _But I am now_. Nikki had been through a lot. She could use a small furry animal to keep her company. His dad was eyeing him suspiciously, so he decided to figure it out later. “Any more questions?”

“How did you 'divine' the motive?” she asked.

He grinned. “That was a combination of research and luck. The cat knocked over some papers on Newton's desk. While picking them up, I noticed they were identical to research papers Sanders had published recently.”

“He stole Newton's work,” Henry surmised.

He nodded. “He changed the dates of the experiments to cover his tracks. But otherwise he copied Newton's work word for word.”

“Did you make up a vision to explain it to the police?” she asked curiously.

He noticed Henry frown at her words. He knew Nikki wouldn't tell anyone his secret and hoped he could convince his dad of the same thing. “Even better,” he said, answering her question. “I pretended to channel Newton's cat. I basically crawled around, meowing and scratching at things I wanted them to pay attention to.”

She grinned. “I would have loved to see that.”

“You should have seen Lassie's face when I rubbed up against his leg,” he said, laughing.

“You shouldn't antagonize him so much,” Henry said. “One of these days he'll arrest you.”

“Please, he already tried that once,” he said dismissively. “I doubt he'll try it again.”

“Why did he try to arrest you?” Nikki asked.

He smiled at her. “That is an interesting story.” He recounted the tale of his first meeting with Detective Lassiter, and the events that led to the formation of Psych. He then went on to tell her about some of his more memorable cases. His dad, having lived through most of them, headed back inside the house.

Some time later, he noticed the sun about to set. “Well, that's probably enough for today,” he said reluctantly. It was nice having someone he could discuss past cases with who hadn't been directly involved. Plus Nikki knew his secret, so he could tell her how he really solved them.

“There's something puzzling me about the reunion case,” she said. “Who's Judd Nelson?”

“Who's Judd Nelson?” he asked in disbelief. “Haven't you ever seen the _Breakfast Club_?” She shook her head. He glanced at his watch. Juliet would probably be home late; the police were still trying to track down Newton. “Come on,” he said, standing up and holding a hand out to Nikki. “I think my dad still has a copy lying around somewhere.” 

* * *

 

Henry turned a page in his book. He was sitting in the kitchen, having given up the living room to Shawn and Nikki's mini movie marathon. Shawn liked to give a running commentary to any movie he'd seen before, making it impossible to watch anything with him. They had started with the _Breakfast Club_ , then gone on to _Teen Wolf_. They were halfway through _Ghostbusters_ and he noticed it had gone suspiciously quiet.

Nikki came into the room and walked over to the fridge. “How's the movie?” he asked, looking up from his book.

She pulled out a soda and popped open the can. “Good,” she said. She glanced toward the living room. “Shawn fell asleep about ten minutes ago. I came in here so I wouldn't wake him up.” She walked over and sat down at the table.

He put his book down. “He was probably up late playing video games or some other nonsense.” He had hoped being with Juliet would cause Shawn to finally grow up, at least a little. So far, that didn't seem to be the case.

“Maybe,” she said doubtfully. She stared down at the can cupped in her hands. “Gus called during the second movie. Half the conversation consisted of Shawn saying 'I'm fine,' over and over again. I think Gus is worried about him.” She looked up at him with concern.

“Mmm,” he grunted. Gus usually didn't worry about Shawn without a good reason. Maybe he should have a talk with Gus, find out if anything was going on. He looked Nikki over. She sure was a perceptive kid. Speaking of which – “So you know he's not a psychic?”

She looked at him guiltily. “I promise I won't tell anyone. Shawn does good work and I wouldn't want to ruin that.” She looked down at her soda again. “I only figured it out by accident,” she said quietly.

“Go on,” he said, intrigued. Few people had figured out the truth to Shawn's act over the years. He wondered what had given him away this time.

She fiddled with her soda. “The thing is – “

A knock on the door interrupted her. “Hold on a moment,” he said. She nodded, looking slightly relieved. He made a mental note of her expression. It warranted further investigation. The knock sounded again. “I'm coming,” he called, annoyed by the impatience of the knocker. People today were in too much of a hurry. He got to the door and opened it. “Juliet,” he said with surprise. “Come in.” He stepped back to let her into the kitchen. “What brings you here so late?”

“I'm sorry to bother you Henry, but I'm looking for Shawn,” she said, glancing around the room. “Is he here?” Her gaze lingered on Nikki before she looked back at him. “It's for a case,” she said apologetically.

“He's asleep in the other room,” he said. “I'll go wake him up.”

“He's asleep?” Juliet asked in surprise. She hesitated. “Maybe you should just leave him.”

“Nonsense,” he said briskly. “He has a job to do. He can sleep later.” Ignoring her protests, he left the room to wake up Shawn. 

* * *

 

Juliet looked after Henry, frowning. She knew Shawn wasn't getting enough sleep and hated to wake him. But they did need him for the case. She heard a sound behind her and turned. Nikki had gotten up from the table and stood looking at her cautiously. She seemed different than the she had at the crime scene, more wary. Given what she had been through, Juliet couldn't blame her.

“Hi,” Nikki said, after a moment.

“Hi,” Juliet said back. She held out her hand. “I'm Juliet.”

Nikki shook it. “Nikki.” The two stood in silence for moment, unsure what to say. “You work with Shawn?” she asked.

“Yes, at the police station,” Juliet replied.

“And you're his girlfriend,” Nikki said. It was a statement rather than a question. Juliet wondered how Nikki had been able to tell. She looked curiously at Juliet. “Is it hard, working with someone you're dating?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted. She heard a muffled curse from the next room. It seemed Henry had succeeded in waking Shawn up. “But it's worth it, if it's the right guy.”

Nikki nodded in understanding. “He's pretty great, isn't he?”

“He is,” she agreed. The two shared a smile at the thought of the psychic. Seeing Nikki smile like that, Juliet could understand why helping her was so important to Shawn. They each had this same quality to them, this innate belief in the goodness of the world, no matter what they've been through. It was what had attracted her to Shawn in the first place. She hoped everything worked out for Nikki, for both their sakes.

At that moment, Shawn stumbled into the room, followed by Henry. He only looked half awake and she wondered again if it might have been better to just let him sleep.

“Jules,” he said, surprised. “What are you doing here?” He tried, and failed, to smother a yawn.

“They found Newton's car at the bus station. The chief wants us to check it out.” She noticed the dark circles under his eyes looked more pronounced then earlier. “Are you ok?” she asked quietly.

“Peachy,” he said, giving her a warm smile. “Just need to give my brain a little time to warm up.” He looked at Henry and Nikki. “We must be off!” He headed for the door, grabbing Juliet's arm along the way.

“It was nice to meet you Nikki,” she said as Shawn dragged her out the door. “Good night Henry.”

“Night Juliet,” Henry called after her.

“Night Juliet. Night Shawn,” Nikki said.

Shawn didn't let go of his arm until they reached the car. He opened the passenger door as she got in on the driver's side. She watched him carefully. He seemed to be having trouble buckling his seatbelt. “Are you sure you're ok?”

He finally got the seatbelt in. “Fine,” he said, rubbing his face. The answer sounded more reflexive than anything. He smiled at her in reassurance. “Let's go.”

With some misgivings, she popped the car into gear and pulled out of the driveway. Shawn was pushing himself to hard. When this was over she was going to make sure he got some rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone still alive? Good. Let me know what you thought.


	6. Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't exactly lie. The last chapter was the longest. But this one is only shorter by a couple of pages. Hopefully it is eventful enough that you won't notice.

_Saturday_

 

“Here.”

A cup of coffee was thrust into Shawn's face. He inhaled the bittersweet aroma, coming out of the stupor he had been in for the last hour. He grabbed the proffered cup and took a long sip. It was perfect, and just cool enough to drink. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Nikki said. The two of them were in the Psych office. Shawn was slumped over at his desk, cradling the cup of coffee. Nikki stood opposite him, arms crossed. It was a warm day, so she was sans sweater, wearing what he recognized as one of his old t shirts. She was staring at him, a concerned look on her face.

He took another sip of coffee. “You know, that's really annoying.” The end of his sentence dissolved into a huge yawn.

“Late night?” she asked quietly.

He nodded. “And an early morning.” He yawned again, rubbing his face. The coffee was sure taking its time waking him up. He looked up at Nikki as a thought occurred to him. “How did you get here?”

“Henry,” she stated. “He said he needed some supplies for a project and could drop me off on the way.” She hesitated, a look of confusion on her face. “He also gave me the money for the coffee. Said if you're not going to sleep, at least you should be awake enough to get some work done.” She looked to Shawn for an explanation. Apparently she had been around Henry long enough to know this was not normal behavior for him.

Shawn groaned, resting his head on the coffee cup. That was Henry's way of saying he was worried about him. He did not need his dad butting into his life right now. He could feel a headache coming on just from the thought of it. Or maybe it was the caffeine on top of too little sleep. “You can tell my dad I'm fine,” he told Nikki, not looking up. “And to quit worrying about me.”

There was a long moment of silence. “At least he cares,” she said quietly.

He lifted his head. She was staring at the floor, shoulders slumped. _Nice going Shawn_ he thought sarcastically. Here he was, complaining about his father being too interested in his life, when she had no one at all. “Nikki - “

At that moment, Gus walked into the office, carrying two smoothies. He stopped short, startled to see Nikki standing there.

She quickly adopted a cheerful grin. “Hi Gus,” she said brightly.

“Nikki,” Gus nodded. He looked at Shawn and sighed. “I thought we agreed no coffee,” he said accusingly.

“Blame her,” he said quickly, pointing at Nikki. “She gave it to me.” She made a face at him. He made one right back.

Gus placed the smoothies on his own desk and walked over to Shawn. “Give me the coffee.” Shawn shook his head, clutching it closer to him. Gus grabbed the cup and after a brief struggle was able to wrench it from his grasp. He looked at Shawn and shook his head, disappointment on his face. “You can't blame Nikki. You're an adult. You're responsible for your own decisions.” He took the cup over to the sink.

He watched sadly as Gus dumped his coffee down the drain. “It was my decision to drink the coffee,” he muttered. He turned when he heard Nikki sigh. She went over to Gus's desk and grabbed one of the smoothies sitting there. She brought it back to Shawn.

“Here,” she said, placing it in front of him. “Stop whining.”

“I wasn't whining,” he said, a definite whine in his voice now. She just gave him a look. He ignored her and grabbed the smoothie. He took a sip and sighed happily. “Good old pineapple.” He leaned back in his chair, propping his feet on his desk with a groan. He sipped his smoothie and closed his eyes, trying to will his headache away.

“Is he always like this when he's tired?” she asked Gus, a hint of worry in her voice.

“Pretty much,” Gus said with a sigh. He heard Gus throw something in the trash, followed by footsteps. There was the creak of a desk chair, then the slurping sound of Gus drinking his own smoothie. “The more tired he is, the more infantile he becomes.” He could hear Gus smirking.

“I call time out on the name calling,” he said, eyes still closed. “At least until I'm awake enough to call them back.” He heard something scrape across the floor. The noise stopped in front of his desk. Opening his eyes, he saw Nikki had dragged over a chair. She sat with her arms crossed, looking at him impatiently. “Can I help you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You never told me what happened last night,” she said complained. He winced as her loud voice set his head throbbing. She noticed and continued more quietly. “Did you find out anything at the bus station?”

“Nothing,” he said, yawning. The few sips of coffee were not enough to wake him up. “Newton was long gone by the time we got there. And none of the night shift workers remembered seeing him.” They had spent hours checking the area for clues only to come up empty handed.

“And the car?”

“Clean. Not so much as a candy wrapper. Nothing that would tell us where he is going or what he is planning.” And nothing he could use for a vision either. He had looked particularly useless last night, as Lassiter had been quick to point out.

“So last night didn't go well,” she summed up. “How about his morning?”

He heaved a sigh. This morning had been the epitome of why cops need sleep. “Let's see. It started with the chief calling us in for a 7 am interview with Pratt. The bastard insisted he had to come in early. Said he had plans later in the day that could not be disrupted.” He rubbed the side of his face tiredly. He and Juliet hadn't gone to bed until 4 am. The chief called at 6, saying she wanted both of them there to question Pratt. He learned a few new curse words from Juliet that morning.

Nikki watched his face carefully. “I'm guessing it didn't go well,” she said slowly.

He snorted, shaking his head. Lassiter had also been called in and was in a similarly exhausted state. Tension had quickly mounted between the detectives and Pratt. “If by not well you mean Lassiter taking a swing at Pratt, then yeah, it didn't go well.” He had had to help drag Lassiter out of the interrogation room after that, leaving Juliet to finish questioning Pratt. He almost thought Lassiter would take a swing at him before he calmed down. He had never seen the detective lose control like that. “He didn't even give us any useful information.” He slurped down the rest of his smoothie.

“Lassiter really took a swing at Pratt?” Nikki asked, sounding surprised. He nodded in confirmation. “Wow.” She sat silently for a moment, shaking her head.

He placed his empty cup on the desk, fiddling with it. “Luckily, we got a call from the bus station. One of the day shift ticket sellers remembered seeing Newton,” He balanced the cup on its edge, trying to spin it with one finger. “Said he bought a ticket to Santa Maria.” He knocked the cup over. It rolled across his desk and fell to the floor.

Nikki grabbed it before it could roll away and tossed it in the trash. She sat back down, a determined look on her face. “I don't think he's going to Santa Maria,” she stated.

“Me either,” he agreed. “But the police seemed to be convinced otherwise.”

“Then why are you here?” she asked, looking at him in confusion. “Why aren't you out trying to track Newton down?”

Gus looked up as Shawn yawned widely. “That's why,” he said. Nikki turned to look at Gus. “Juliet called me to come pick him up. He was practically dead on his feet.” He glared at Shawn. “He's been pushing himself too hard. She wanted him to get some rest.”

“I'm resting,” he said stubbornly. He gestured to himself in the chair. “I have my feet up and everything.”

“She meant you need to sleep and you know it,” Gus said.

“I don't have time to sleep,” he grumbled. He dropped his feet off the desk and sat up. “I need to figure out where Newton went.” His statement was punctuated by another yawn.

“Well, does he have any family?” Nikki asked thoughtfully.

“Don't encourage him,” Gus said sternly.

“If he's not going to sleep, we might as well help him,” she said to Gus. She turned back to Shawn. “Any siblings?” she prompted.

“One brother,” he said. “Jules checked him out yesterday, before we found Newton's car. He used to work for Mendorra Construction until they shut down. Now he works freelance. He's currently out of town on a job. They checked out his place already.”

“Wasn't Mendorra the one working that building on State Street?” Gus asked.

He nodded. “They never found anyone to continue the project. It's been abandoned ever since.” He yawned again, struggling to keep his eyes open.

Gus and Nikki exchanged a look. “Dude, maybe you should go lay down. You look exhausted,” Gus said carefully.

“I'm fine,” he said irritably. He wished everyone would quit asking him that. He just needed to figure out where Newton would go next. He yawned again.

“Nikki and I can work do some digging while you get some rest,” Gus said. Nikki nodded in agreement.

“I said I'm fine,” he snapped. They exchanged another worried look at his outburst. He sighed. Maybe they were right. It felt like his head was full of marshmallows, all gooey and delicious but not very good for crime solving. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“Shawn?” Nikki said softly. He looked up to see her looking at him carefully. “You really need to rest. Even if just for an hour.”

He nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, I think you're right.” He got up slowly, grabbing his phone. He yawned so wide he felt his jaw pop. “Let me know when you find something.” Without waiting for a response, he stumbled to the back room.

When they had first started Psych, Shawn had put an old army cot and some blankets in one of the back rooms. It gave him a place to crash if he was working on a case all night. Or when he was between apartments, which had happened a couple of times in the early days. He moved some boxes out of the way and flopped down on the cot. Pulling a blanket over himself, he quickly drifted off. 

* * *

 

His cell phone ringing woke Shawn up from an uneasy sleep. He grabbed it, peering blearily at the screen. When he saw who it was, he cursed. “What do you want, Dad?” he moaned into the phone.

“And hello to you too,” Henry replied. “You got a minute?”

He sighed. He pulled the phone away from his head to look at it. Judging by the time, he had barely been asleep 20 minutes. He put the phone back to his ear. “Do I have a choice?” he asked sullenly.

“I'm replacing some of the old boards on the back porch. I need an extra set of hands.” It sounded more like an order than a request for help.

“I'm in the middle of a case right now,” he whined. “Can't you bother someone else?”

“I wasn't talking about you,” Henry said. “Nikki's still there, right?”

“Yeah, so?” he asked, brain still fuzzy with sleep.

“So it's about time she starts earning her keep,” Henry explained. “I'll see you in 10 minutes.” He hung up before Shawn could reply.

He groaned, pulling the blankets over his head. He considered going back to sleep and forgetting the entire conversation. But his dad would just call back, and keep calling until he got Nikki over there. With a sigh, he threw back the blankets and got up.

Gus was sitting at his desk, looking at something on his computer screen. Nikki was standing behind him, looking over his shoulder. “What about this one?” Nikki said, pointing at something on the screen.

Gus shook his head. “None of the houses have the right view of the lake.” He looked up as Shawn entered the room. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I was,” he said irritably. He held up his phone. “My dad called. He wants help on some project of his.”

“Tell him we're busy with a case,” Gus said.

“He doesn't want us.” He came around to look over Gus's other shoulder. On screen was a topical map of Santa Barbara and the surrounding areas. “What are you doing?”

“I remembered that picture in Newton's house, the one we knocked over,” Gus said, looking at him. Shawn nodded. “Well, there was a cabin in the background. I'm trying to find it.”

“It's a dead end,” he said dismissively. “The family sold it 10 years ago. The police sent someone to check it out. The place looked abandoned.”

“Oh,” Gus said. He closed his laptop. “It would have been nice to know that earlier.” He gave Shawn a disgruntled look.

“You didn't ask,” he said simply.

Gus sighed in defeat. “So why did your dad call, if he doesn't want our help?” he asked, returning to the previous topic.

“He wants Nikki's help,” he explained. He turned to Nikki with a grin. “Something about earning her keep.”

She looked back in resignation. “I don't really have a choice in this, do I?” she asked.

“Nope,” he said cheerfully, glad it wasn't him helping out for once. He rolled his eyes at her hopeless expression. “Relax. It won't be that bad.”

“I'd rather stay and help you find Newton,” she said dejectedly, looking down.

Shawn took pity on her. It wasn't easy working with his father, after all. “Alright, here's what you do,” he said conspiratorially. “Pretend you have no idea what you are doing. Make him show you how to do everything. Wait until he gets really focused on the job, then say you have to use the bathroom. You can sneak off for a good 30 minutes, sometime up to an hour.” Her expression brightened as he explained the plan. “But remember, you can only use the bathroom trick once per project, so choose your time wisely.”

“Thanks, I'll remember that,” she said, grinning. She looked more like her usual, bubbly self.

Gus glared at him. “Is that how I keep getting stuck doing all the work whenever we're helping your dad out?”

He winced. “It's not going to work anymore, is it?”

“Shawn,” Gus said sternly.

“Ok, Ok,” he said placatingly. “I promise: no more sticking Gus with all the work.”

Gus looked slightly mollified at the statement. “When does your dad want us over there?” he asked.

He checked his phone. “About now.” He looked at his two companions. “We should probably get going.”

“OK,” Nikki said. She looked slyly at Shawn. “Shotgun!” she called, before racing out the door.

“That's not fair,” he complained. “I'm the psychic. You're the apprentice.” He chased Nikki out the door, Gus following more sedately behind him. 

* * *

 

Shawn walked into his father's house, Nikki behind him. “Dad! We're here!”

“You're late,” Henry said, entering the kitchen. “I expected you 15 minutes ago.” He was dressed in a ratty pair of shorts and an old t-shirt.

“Gus got stuck in the little boy's room,” Shawn said. He sighed, shaking his head. “I told him those burritos looked funky.”

Henry crossed his arms and looked disapprovingly at him. “You're 36 years old, Shawn. You shouldn't be relying on your friend to drive you everywhere.”

“Did you want me to drive her over on my motorcycle?” he asked sarcastically. “Because that seems just a little irresponsible.” He normally didn't let his dad get under his skin like this. But he was too tired to play nice and take his father's crap today.

“Irresponsible?” Henry snorted. “That's rich, coming from you. You haven't been responsible a day in your life.”

“Hey, I run a business,” he said, insulted. “I've been responsible loads of times.” He could feel his temper starting to fray.

“Like when you got shot poking your nose where it didn't belong?” Henry asked accusingly.

“Like when I caught the guy who tried to kill you!” he snapped angrily. The two stood glaring at each other. Movement out of the corner of his eye made Shawn turn. Nikki stood in the corner of the kitchen, watching the two of them nervously. He had forgotten she was standing there. His anger dissipating, he started to feel embarrassed about the way he had acted.

He looked back at his father. “You're right, I'm irresponsible,” he said, earning a surprised look from Henry. “So let's just drop it.” He glanced at Nikki, than back at Henry. His father followed his gaze, taking in Nikki's discomfort with the situation.

“Fair enough,” Henry said. He turned to Nikki. “Sorry about that. My son and I don't get along well at the best of times.”

“It's ok,” Nikki said, still a little subdued.

“Why don't you go upstairs and change?” Henry said gently. “I'll meet you out back to show you what we'll be doing.”

“Ok,” she said. She seemed glad to have an excuse to leave the room. She quickly crossed the kitchen and headed up the stairs.

Shawn rubbed his temples, feeling his headache coming back. He saw his father watching him. “I'm fine,” he said, hopping to forestall a lecture.

Henry left the room. Before Shawn had time to wonder what he was doing, he came back with a bottle of Advil. “Here,” Henry said, throwing it to him. He fumbled the bottle and nearly dropped it. Henry filled up a glass of water and placed it in front of him.

“Thanks,” he said gratefully. He opened the bottle and popped out a couple of pills. He tossed them back along with the entire glass of water. Putting the glass down, he leaned on the counter, hoping they worked quickly.

Henry was still watching him closely. “I'm not going to tell you to take it easy or get some rest,” he said after a moment. “You're too much like me. You won't rest until the case is done.” He leaned against the counter next to Shawn. “But if you wear yourself out, you won't be any good to the police. Or Nikki.”

He turned his head to look at his father. He was touched by the concern he could see on Henry's face. With all the fighting, sometimes he forgot how much his dad cared about him. “I'll keep that in mind.” He pushed himself away from the counter. “I gotta go. Gus is waiting outside and I have a killer to catch.” He walked over to the door.

“Be careful,” Henry said gruffly.

He grinned. “Life's no fun if you're careful.” Henry snorted as he opened the door and walked outside.

“Make sure you eat something,” Henry called after him.

Shawn shook his head, pulling the door closed behind him. Worried Henry was almost as bad as mad Henry. At least mad Henry he knew how to deal with. He went over to the car and got inside.

“How'd it go?” Gus asked.

“Could have been worse,” he said, buckling his seatbelt. He pulled out his phone and looked at the screen. He groaned in dismay.

“What's wrong?” Gus asked.

“My phone died,” he said. “Between all the running around last night and this morning, I must have forgotten to charge it again.” He had broken the charger at the office, so he would have to get the one at the house. He hoped he hadn't missed any calls. He turned to Gus. “Can we swing by my place to pick up the charger?”

“Sure,” Gus said. “But only if we can also stop to pick up something to eat. I'm starving.”

“Deal,” he said. He closed his eyes against the bright sunlight as Gus pulled out of the driveway. He yawned, feeling drowsy. “Wake me when we get there.” He settled back comfortably in the seat, dozing the rest of the way. 

* * *

 

The first thing Shawn did when he got back to the office, after tripping over the pile of mail by the door, was plug in his phone. He sat at his desk, waiting impatiently for the phone to boot up. Gus collected the scattered bits of mail and brought it over to his own desk.

The phone beeped at him. 'One new voicemail' showed up on the screen. The number attached was for the PI in Denver. “Damn it.” He pressed the button to retrieve the voicemail. Of course the guy would call the one time he didn't have his phone on.

Gus looked up from sorting the mail. “What is it?”

“I missed the call from the PI,” he said with a sigh. Gus shook his head in sympathy. Shawn queued up the message. “But he left a voicemail.” He put the phone on speaker before hitting play.

“Hello Mr. Spencer,” the PI said. He had a slightly raspy voice and Shawn immediately pictured one of those classic noir detectives, complete with trench coat. “You called asking for information about Nicole Peterson's father. Interesting case. I have a name for you, but I would rather not leave it in a message. Let's say it's a complicated situation.” He chuckled to himself. Shawn and Gus exchanged a look. “I'll be out of the office the rest of the day. I should be back by noon tomorrow. If you want the information, you can call me then.” He left his phone number. “Good luck with the child.” The message ended.

“I hope it's not too complicated a situation, for Nikki's sake,” Gus said. He went back to sorting the mail.

“Me too,” Shawn said, staring at his phone. The entire message had seemed a little weird. Like the detective was hiding something. Something he found very amusing. And the way he ended the message. 'Good luck with the child.' The phrasing of it struck Shawn as a little odd.

“Hey Shawn,” Gus said, interrupting his thoughts. “What hospital was Nikki's mom admitted to?”

“University of Colorado Hospital,” he replied. He looked over at Gus “Why?”

Gus held up an envelope. “Someone from there sent you this.” He walked over and handed it to Shawn.

He put down his phone and grabbed the envelope from Gus. It was indeed from U of C Hospital. “Weird. I didn't use my real name when I talked to that nurse.” He looked at the return address. He didn't recognize the person listed.

“Well?” Gus said impatiently. “Aren't you going to open it?”

“Patience, Gus,” he admonished. He looked the envelope over one more time before carefully ripping it open. Inside was a folded piece of paper and what looked like a photograph. He was about to remove the contents when his phone started ringing. Glancing at it, he saw 'Papa Bear' on the screen.

“What does he want now?” he grumbled. He picked up the phone with his free hand and answered it. “Whatever it is, the answer is no.”

“Where have you been?” Henry asked. He sounded anxious. “I've been trying to call you for the last half hour.”

“My phone died. We stopped to pick up my charger and get some food.” He looked up at Gus worriedly. His dad wasn't one to overreact. “Why, did something happen?”

“Nikki's gone.”

He dropped the envelope on the desk. “What do you mean, she's gone?” he asked, almost shouting into the phone. He put the phone on speaker as Gus came over to stand next to him.

“She went inside to get a drink,” Henry said, voice distorted over the phone. “When I noticed how long she had been gone, I went in to look for her. I figured she was trying to ditch work, like you always did.” Shawn let the dig slid, too worried about Nikki. “I found a note on her bed next to a map of Santa Barbara.”

“What did the note say?” he asked urgently.

Henry cleared his throat. “'Police wrong. Newton's still in town. Be back later.'” There was the sound of paper rustling. “On the back is a note to you. 'Shawn, think of the brother.' Do you have any idea what this means?”

“I'm not sure,” he said slowly. It sounded like Nikki had figured out where Newton was hiding and had gone to check it out. He'd be impressed if he wasn't so worried. Newton had proved he was willing to kill to avoid getting caught. “Don't worry, I'll find her.”

“You'd better,” his dad said. “You got her involved in this case. It's on your head if anything happens to her.” He hung up before Shawn could reply.

Shawn threw his phone on his desk. “Why didn't she just say something?” he asked Gus. “Why did she have to run off after him?” He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“Why don't you ask yourself the same question?” Gus said. “You do it all the time.”

“That's different,” he snapped. He started pacing in front of his desk. “The police think I'm psychic. So I have to know things I shouldn't to keep them believing that.” He glared at Gus. “I don't just run off into a dangerous situation without telling anyone, completely unprepared!”

“Really?” Gus asked sarcastically. Shawn gave him a murderous glare, causing Gus to put up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, not helping.”

Shawn continued to pace, trying to get his tired mind to focus. “I just don't understand what she was thinking,” he muttered.

Gus pulled him to a stop, forcing Shawn to look at him.“You said she's been hanging around, watching you work.” Shawn nodded. “I think she's trying to emulate you. Be like you.” He explained at Shawn's blank stare. “You said yourself she has the same photographic memory. Maybe she's trying to see if she can be as good as you.”

Shawn chuckled bitterly. “Just like a real apprentice.” He sighed, anger fading into worry. “That doesn't help us figure out where she went.”

“What about the clue?” Gus reminded him. “'Think of the brother.'” He looked at expectantly at Shawn. “What do we know about him?”

“James Newton, 32. Lives over in Summerland.” he said, recalling the info he knew about the brother. “Worked for Mendorra construction. Now works freelance.” He stopped as something clicked in his mind. “Didn't you say Mendorra abandoned a project on State Street?”

“Yes, the half finished building,” Gus said. He went to his desk and pulled out a map of Santa Barbara. Shawn came over as he unfolded the map. “Here.” He pointed to an area on the map.

Shawn studied the map closely. “That's not too far from the bus station where we found Newton's car.” He looked up at Gus. “Certainly within walking distance.” It was a long shot, but it was the best lead they had.

“You think that's where he's hiding?” Gus asked uncertainly.

“I'm pretty sure Nikki does,” he said. “And Newton's smart. We assumed he would run, so the safest thing for him to do is stay in town.” He pointed to the map. “That building is empty and we would never think to connect it with him. It's perfect.”

“Then let's go,” Gus said.

Shawn paused just long enough to grab his phone off his desk before running out the door.

* * *

 

The sun was setting when they arrived at the abandoned building. It had already fallen behind the surrounding structures, casting the entire area into shadow. From what they could see, most of the first floor appeared finished, minus doors and windows. The second and third stories were just framework in the open air. With the light growing dimmer by the minute, the whole thing had a distinct, horror movie feel to it.

Shawn and Gus sat in the car for a moment, staring at the building. “Creepy,” Gus said with a shiver.

“Yeah,” Shawn agreed. A missing girl in a building with a murderer. Two guys going in, unprepared, to find her. This had horror movie written all over it. He hoped it didn't end up like one. He shook his head to dispel that train of thought and turned to Gus. “Well, it's not going to get any less slasher movie-e. Shall we?”

Gus stopped him before he could get out of the car. “Shouldn't we call the police first?” he asked worriedly.

Shawn shook his head. “Not until we find Nikki. The police can't know she was here.” He climbed out of the car before Gus could protest further.

They headed across the lot and cautiously entered the building through one of the open doorways. Inside it was already dark, the fading sunlight unable to penetrate that far. They stopped just inside the doorway, peering into the blackness.

He nudged Gus. “Dude, go get your flashlight out of the car.”

“I can't,” Gus said, turning to him. “You took it out of the glove compartment to make room for your candy.”

“Sometimes I need a sugar boost while working on a case,” he said defensively.

Gus rolled his eyes. “Didn't you download one of those flashlight apps to your phone?”

“I did,” he said, patting Gus on the back. He pulled out his phone and quickly found the app. He tapped it and a bright light immediately shone from the phone. He waved it around, illuminating patches of the room. “Cool,” he said, grinning.

Gus grabbed his arm, pointing the light towards the ground. “Are you trying to signal to Newton we're here?” he hissed.

Shawn winced. “Good point.” He dimmed the light and angled the phone so it shone on the ground in front of them. They had just enough light to see where they were going. “Ready?”

Gus nodded. They slowly walked deeper into the building.

The rooms near the front were the most complete. The further back they went, the more debris and building supplies they saw. Eventually they reached an open space near the center of the building. Shawn turned up the brightness on his phone and shone it around. The area was piled high with a maze of old dry wall, lumber, and extra support beams.

Gus suddenly grabbed his arm. “Did you hear that?” he whispered.

Shawn listened carefully for a moment. “Hear what?” he asked.

“Sshhhh.” Gus hissed. “Don't talk so loud.”

“I don't hear anything,” he said, making sure to whisper.

“I thought I heard something over there,” Gus said, pointing to the right. Shawn started to head in that direction but Gus stopped him. “What if it's Newton?” he asked fearfully.

“What if it's Nikki?” Shawn countered. He shook off Gus's hand and carefully started making his way towards the right side of the room. He was halfway there when he heard a loud clang behind him. Whipping around, he saw Gus standing on one leg, holding his foot. “Dude, keep it down,” he said, heart pounding.

“I tripped,” Gus hissed. They froze as they heard a scuffling noise ahead of them. “That's what I heard before,” Gus said, barely audible.

Shawn motioned Gus to be quiet and moved closer to investigate. He slipped between two piles of lumber, slowly approaching where the noise was coming from. Suddenly a dark shape darted in front of him. He fell back with a yelp, bringing the light up. He was just able to make out a small furry form, with a masked face and ringed tail, before it scampered off into the darkness.

He sighed in relief. “Just a raccoon,” he whispered to Gus, peering after it. He got no reply. “Gus?” He turned around. No Gus. He retraced his steps back to where Gus had tripped. “Gus?” he called again, a little louder. Still no reply. “Where are you?” he muttered to himself. He was starting to get worried.Maybe they should have called for backup. Hoping Gus had just gotten turned around in the dark, he pulled up his number on his phone. He was about to press send when he sensedsomeone behind him. Before he could turn around, something hit him hard on the back of the head. He collapsed to the floor, sharp spikes of agony ripping through his skull. His cell phone spun away, light still shining. He was vaguely aware of someone walking towards him. _Definitely should have called for backup_ he had time to think before he lost consciousness. 

* * *

 

First, there was pain, blotting out everything else. Shawn spent a few agonizing moments wishing he would pass out again.Gradually, the pain receded, allowing other sensations to come through. He sorted through them, taking stock of his condition. He was sitting upright with his back against something cool and metallic, legs stretched out in front of him. His arms were bent back around the metallic object, hands secured with what felt like rope. He had a throbbing pain in his head and various other aches throughout his body.Not good, but nothing seemed immediately life threatening.

He heard noises to his left. Harsh breathing, and the sound of someone moving. Head still fuzzy, he couldn't recall exactly what had happened. He teased at his memory, trying to piece things together.He was looking for someone. Gus? Yes, and no. Someone else. Someone important.

His memory came in a rush. Nikki. An abandoned building. Gus going missing. Someone behind him, pain, then blackness. He opened his eyes and groaned as a blinding light sent sharp spikes of pain through his head. He squeezed them shut, contemplating living in darkness the rest of his life. It would be hard, but manageable. Like being blind, but voluntarily.

The sounds to his left stopped. “Shawn?” It was Gus. That answered one question at least. “Shawn. Can you hear me?”

He winced as Gus's loud voice caused his head to throb harder. “Dude, not so loud,” he said, voice raspy. Deciding that the blind life was not for him, (how would he watch movies?) he tried opening his eyes again. This time the light was not so intense. After a few moments, his eyes adjusted and he got his first glimpse of the space they were in. The light was coming from a small electric lantern sitting on a barrel about 10 feet away. It lit up piles of lumber and old girders, leading him to believe they were still somewhere in that large central room. Looking up, he saw his arms were tied around one of the support beams for the floor above. “Shawn?”

Turning his head to the left, he saw Gus similarly tied up at the next beam over. Gus sighed in relief. “I was getting worried. You were unconscious for a long time.” He looked over Shawn with concern. “Are you ok?”

He laughed, then winced as the combination of sound and movement increased the throbbing in his head. “Let's see, someone snuck up on me, knocked me out, then tied me to a pillar.” He grinned wryly at Gus. “Yeah, I'm peachy.” He looked more closely at Gus's face. He had a nasty bruise forming over his right eye and a split lip. “You look like you've been in a fight. Did you put up a valiant if fruitless struggle against our captor?”

“Not exactly.” Gus looked embarrassed. “I heard something and tripped running away. Newton grabbed me while I was laying stunned on the ground.”

Newton. Shawn had forgotten about him. He looked around the space. He didn't see any sign of another person. “Where is he?”

“I don't know. He said something about checking the perimeter. That was a few minutes before you woke up.”

“Then we'd better hurry up and escape.” Shawn started tugging on the rope binding his hands. If it was loose enough, maybe he could wriggle his hands free. Unfortunately, whoever had tied the ropes seemed to be an expert. There wasn't an inch of slack and the knots were nice and tight. He gave up after a couple minutes. “Hey Gus. Do you still have your phone?”

“Even if I did, how exactly would you propose I use it?” Gus asked. He nodded his head towards his own bound hands.

“Good point.” Shawn racked his brain, but for the moment was drawing a blank. The two sat there quietly, waiting for something to happen. “Hey Gus?” he asked slowly.

Gus sighed. “Yes Shawn?”

“I have to pee.”

Gus glared at him. “If Newton doesn't kill you, I will.”

“He already tried once, what makes you think you'ddo any better?” he asked challengingly.

“I've known you longer,” Gus said smugly. “I know your weaknesses. All I would need was a poisoned smoothie.”

He gasped. “Sacrilege!”

Gus grinned. “And that's why I would succeed.” His smile faded as his look turned more serious. “Besides, Newton wouldn't have gone through the trouble of tying us up if he wanted us dead. It wouldn't make sense.”

“You are correct Mr. Guster.”

Shawn turned his head. While he and Gus had been arguing, Newton had appeared from the surrounding maze and was walking towards them. He stopped next to the barrel. The light illuminated only half his face, giving him a sinister look. “If I wanted you dead, you would be.” He studied them like they were lab specimens, ready to be dissected. “I see Mr. Spencer has finally woken up.”

“Are you the manager?” Shawn asked. “Because I must lodge a complaint. These accommodations are simply awful. And the service leaves much to be desired.” He could never resist messing with the bad guys. And if it threw them off their game, all the better.

Newton just looked at him blankly. “I may have inadvertently used too much force hitting you on the head. It appears I caused brain damage.”

“He always talks like that,” Gus said quickly. He gave Newton a fake grin. “Don't antagonize our captor Shawn,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

“I know what I'm doing,” Shawn muttered back. “I've done this before.”

“And every time the police showed up and rescued us,” Gus pointed out. “What's the plan now?”

“I'm improvising,” he said. “If we just had our phones. . . “

“I can hear everything you are saying,” Newton said, glancing back and forth between the two of them. “I'm only 3.17 meters away.”

Shawn looked at him blankly. “That's 10.4 feet for you simpletons,” Newton explained with a sigh. “As to the cell phones. . .” He picked them up from the barrel and showed them to Shawn and Gus. “I already disabled them.” Shawn saw that the battery was missing out of the back of both phones. Newton pulled something from his pocket. “Just so you don't get any ideas.” Shawn realized it was the batteries before Newton turned and tossed them off into the room.

Shawn followed their path with his eyes, making a note of where they landed. “That seemed a little unnecessary,” he said when Newton's attention was back on them. “At least give us a fighting chance and let us have the rest of the phone.”

Newton shook his head. “I've had too many things go wrong already to let anything fall to chance.” He went back over to the barrel and picked something up. Shawn was momentarily distracted by movement near where the batteries had landed. It could have been an animal. Or it could have been someone searching the area. “I had hoped to avoid this,” Newton said. Gus gasped and Shawn refocused on Newton.

The thing he had picked up from the barrel was a gun. “Really? A gun?” Shawn asked, disappointed. “You're a scientist. Shouldn't it be some kind of death ray or other weird gadget?” He looked disapprovingly at Newton. “You're ruining the image of evil scientists everywhere.”

“Shut up, Shawn,” Gus hissed.

“I'm not evil,” Newton insisted. “I was justified in what I did.”

Shawn saw movement around the nearest pile of lumber. There was a flash of brown hair as someone peeked around the pile. “That's right,” he said, earning him a surprised look from Gus. “Sanders stole your work.” He needed to get Newton talking, keep his attention away from that pile.

“I spent years working on that research,” Newton said, moving closer to Shawn. “Years of working in labs, spending my nights and weekends experimenting. Years of making sure my work was absolutely perfect. And for what? So some two-bit hack, jealous of my brilliance, can steal my masterpieces and claim them for his own.” Newton's face was flush with anger and he was breathing hard. The distraction was working better than Shawn had hoped. He definitely had Newton's full attention.Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nikki cautiously peeking around the lumber again. He met her gaze and tried to direct her attention towards the barrel.

“What are you looking at?” Newton asked suddenly. He turned to look behind him as Nikki ducked back behind the pile.

“Nothing,” Shawn said quickly, causing Newton to turn back towards him. “There is absolutely nothing there. Right Gus?”

“Right,” Gus agreed, giving him a quick, worried look. He had seen Nikki too. “I certainly didn't see anything.”

“I should check just to make sure,” Newton said. He turned and started walking towards Nikki's hiding place.

Shawn and Gus exchanged a panicked glance. “Stealing your work must have made you mad.” Gus said desperately.

Newton paused. Shawn jumped at the hesitation. “Not just mad, vengeful. Sanders was wrong and nobody stopped him.” There was an anxious moment where Shawn wasn't sure if Newton would take the bait. He breathed a sigh of relief when Newton turned back towards them. Luckily, he appeared to be the type of villain who liked to explain his plan to his victims. Shawn was glad Santa Barbara seemed to have an inordinate amount of these chatty villains.

“I tried going through the proper channels,” Newton said. “But it was his word against mine. And Sanders had friends on the review board. I didn't have a chance.” He walked back towards Shawn. “You see why I had to kill him. I had no choice.” He stopped in front of Shawn, looking at him intently. “You understand, right?” The hand holding the gun was trembling slightly.

“No choice at all,” Shawn agreed. Newton was starting to lose it. He better tread carefully. “The way you did it was brilliant. I mean, sabotaging the experiment to make it look like an accident? Pure genius.”

“That was easy,” Newton said dismissively. “It was pinning it on Pratt that was the tricky part.”

“How did you accomplish that?” Gus asked, drawing Newton's attention towards him.

“First I had to steal glassware from Pratt's lab, so it had his fingerprints on it,” Newton said, moving closer to Gus. He started going into detail how he staged Sanders' death and Pratt's downfall.

Shawn meanwhile watched Nikki's hiding place.She peeked around the pile, studying the situation carefully. He met her gaze and nodded. She slowlystepped out into the open and made her way towards the barrel. Gus kept Newton talking, keeping his attention away from Nikki. She was almost there when her foot scuffed against the dirt on the floor. She immediately dropped down behind the barrel, using it as cover.

“What was that?” Newton asked, glancing over.

“Rats?” Gus said hesitantly.

Newton didn't look convinced. He moved towards the barrel, gun held out in front of him. Shawn held his breath, praying he didn't see Nikki. He moved past the barrel, Nikki twisting to make sure it stayed between the two of them, hiding her. Apparently satisfied no one was there, he walked back towards Gus. Shawn slowly let out his breath. That was too close.

Newton looked at the two of them. “You both seem tense,” he said suspiciously.

Shawn made a conscious effort to appear more relaxed. “Just anxious to hear more of your brilliance.” Newton did not look convinced. “Tell us about Cooper,” he asked quickly, trying to distract him.

Newton sighed. “Cooper was an unfortunate complication. He had seen me taking glassware from Pratt's lab the day before the accident. He confronted me while I was planting evidence for the police to find.”

That explained why Cooper was killed in Pratt's lab. “Go on,” Shawn encouraged. He saw Nikki reach carefully over the top of the barrel and grab one of the phones. Mission accomplished, she started making her way silently back to the safety of the lumber pile.

“I thought dumping the body far from the school would buy me enough time to get out of town .” Newton looked accusingly at Shawn. “I did not expect such a quick identification. I barely had enough time to put my plan into action.”

“My bad,” Shawn said, trying to appear contrite. He just needed to keep Newton talking a little bit longer. Nikki was just a few steps away from safety. At that moment, she tripped. She caught herself before she fell, but the noise attracted Newton's attention. She dived for the lumber pile but was just a bit too slow.

“There is someone here!” Newton shouted. He walked quickly over to the barrel, cursing when he noticed the missing cell phone. He turned to glare at Shawn and Gus. “Who is she?” he asked, pointing his gun at them.

“No one,” Shawn said quickly. “Probably just some homeless kid looking for food.” Gus nodded frantically, eyes on the gun.

Newton didn't appear to be listening. He took a deep breath, calming himself. “She took the phone. She might have the batteries. I should go after for her.” He spoke to himself, as if Shawn and Gus weren't even there. He chocked the gun, earning a frightened yelp from Gus. He glanced briefly at them. “I'll be back as soon as I take care of this complication.” He headed out into the maze after Nikki. 

* * *

 

Lassiter was tired. The bus lead had been a bust. They had finally tracked down the bus driver of the route Newton bought the ticket for. He and O'Hara had had to drive out to Lompoc to talk to him. The driver had never seen Newton. Checking the security tapes collaborated his story. Newton had never boarded that bus. Lassiter had wasted the whole damn day on a dead end.

He glanced over at his partner. O'Hara was leaning against the window, staring sleepily at the scenery at it went by. It had been a hard few days for both of them. And what did they have to show for it? Nothing. He took the exit off the 101 for State St. Maybe he would swing by the bus station again, see if they had missed anything.

O'Hara glanced at the clock. “It's later than I thought. I should probably call Shawn before he starts to worry.” She pulled out her phone and started dialing. “Hi honey, sorry I'm running late. I'm on my way back into town and should be at the station in 20 minutes. Love you.” She hung up and frowned down at the phone.

“Something wrong?” he asked, glancing over at her.

“It went straight to voicemail. Shawn never shuts his phone off during a case.” He could hear the worry starting to creep into her voice.

“Maybe he forgot to charge it again,” he said logically. He had learned to trust her instincts in most matters. But her feelings for Spencer tended to cloud her judgment. “I'm sure he's fine.”

She sighed. “You're probably right.” She stared out the window, still frowning.

Lassiter turned back to the road. O'Hara had been worried about Spencer lately. She said he was pushing himself too hard.He had hoped she would be able to convince Spencer to drop the case. It would be nice to work without the interference. But he was like a terrier. Once he got his teeth in something, he wouldn't let go. It was what put him at odds with Spencer so often. He'd solve even the toughest cases in record time, leaving the police to play catch up. He had hoped to beat Spencer this time, but with the bus ticket being a bust and no other leads, it wasn't looking likely. Spencer had probably solved the case already.

His phone started ringing. “Speak of the devil,” he muttered darkly. But when he glanced at the phone, he was surprised to see it was Guster calling. “That's strange,” he said slowly.He could count on one hand the number of times Guster had called him during a case.But if Spencer couldn't use his own phone, maybe he had borrowed Guster's. That made sense.No need to worry.He pulled over into an empty parking lot.

“What's strange?” O'Hara asked. She leaned over to look at his phone. “Why is Gus calling you?” She looked up at him worriedly.

Her worry was starting to make him uneasy. “Let's find out,” he said. He picked up the phone and answered it. “Lassiter.”

There was a brief pause before someone spoke. “You have to get to the abandoned building on State Street right away.” The voice was that of a young female, definitely not Guster. It sounded oddly familiar, but he couldn't place from where.

“Who is this?” he asked, immediately suspicious. “How did you get this phone?” He could see panic starting to form in O'Hara's eyes. He turned away, trying to ignore his own growing concern and focus on the call.

“That's not important,” the voice said impatiently. “Newton's here and – ” The voice cut off as a loud bang echoed through the phone.

Lassiter tensed. That sounded like a gunshot. He went into cop mode, pushing his personal feelings aside. He needed to gather as much information as he could. “Where in the building?” he asked.

“A large open room filled with supplies,” the voice whispered. She sounded scared. Most people were when they were getting shot at. “It's not just him. He has Shawn and Gus tied up on the right side of the room.”

He cursed. Of course Spencer was there. Find a mad man with a gun, firing at people, and the psychic was bound to be close by. “What's Newton doing now?”

“Looking for me.” He heard the sound of something scraping on gravel. “I think he's close.” She sounded panicked. He needed to calm her down, keep her focused.

“Don't move,” he said, keeping his voice steady.He popped the car into gear and pulled back onto the road. He flicked his lights and sirens on. “We're about five minutes out. I want you to stay put. Don't draw attention to yourself.”

“OK – “ He heard another bang, then a cry of pain. The line went dead.

“Shit.” Driving one handed, he tried calling Guster's phone. It went straight to voicemail. He grabbed the radio. “Car #42 to dispatch. We're heading to the abandoned building on State Street. Newton has been sighted in the area. Reports of gunfire.” He glanced at O'Hara before continuing. “He may have hostages.” He saw her freeze at his words. “Requesting backup. Over.”

“Dispatch to Car #42. Two cars are being sent to meet you at the site. ETA 10 minutes. Over.”

“Affirmative. Over.” He put the radio back and looked at O'Hara. She was staring straight ahead, not moving.

“The hostages,” she said quietly. “Shawn and Gus?” He nodded. “Drive faster.”

He sped up, the girl's cry playing in his head. It sounded like Newton had already shot one person. He hoped Shawn and Gus weren't next. 

* * *

 

As soon as Newton was out of sight, Shawn started tugging at his bonds again. Maybe if he twisted his wrist, he could reach one of the knots.

“Do you think she'll be ok?” Gus asked quietly.

“I'm sure she'll be fine,” he said, concentrating on the rope. His wrist was bent as far as it would go but he still couldn't get a grip on the knot. “Damn it,” he said, sagging against the pillar.

“Newton seemed pretty determined,” Gus said, unsure.

“Nikki's smart,” he said shortly. “She's just needs to get far enough away to call for help. Then she can hide until the police get here.” He looked at the ground around him. If he found something sharp, maybe he could cut the rope.

“She didn't have much of a head start,” Gus said worriedly. “And Newton has a gun.”

“I know Newton has a gun,” he said sharply. He saw a likely piece of metal with a sharp edge. He tried to drag it towards him with his foot.

“You don't seem very concerned,” Gus accused. “She could get shot, trying to save us.”

His foot slipped, sending the metal shard skittering away. “I know, Gus,” he yelled, losing his temper. “She wouldn't even be here if I hadn't told her about the case. Or if I had been quicker in finding Newton. Instead I'm stuck here, helpless, while he chases after her with a gun.” He glared at Gus. “But worrying about it isn't going to do anything. So help me figure out a way out of here.”

Gus seemed taken aback. “Shawn – “ He was cut off by the sound of a gunshot.

Shawn froze, heart pounding. He listened intently, hoping to hear something, anything that would tell him what had happened.Silence. He took a shaky breath, looking at Gus. He saw fear in his eyes, the same fear he himself was feeling. “It could be nothing,” he said, voice trembling. “Shooting at shadows.” Gus nodded, but didn't look convinced.

Another shot rang out, followed by a cry of pain. “Nikki!” he shouted frantically. _Please don't be dead._ He started tugging on his bonds again, drawing blood in his attempt to free himself.

He heard the sound of running footsteps, then Newton came into view. He was still holding the gun, now smoking slightly. “Who did she call?” he asked, advancing on the two of them.

Shawn exchanged a panicked glance with Gus. Neither of them knew what to say.

Newton held up Gus's phone. The screen was cracked and dark. “She dropped this after I shot her.” Shawn's heart stopped beating. _Oh god no._ He was suddenly finding it very hard to breath. _Shot doesn't mean dead_ he tried to convince himself. Newton moved in closer, reminding Shawn that his own life was in danger right now. He took a deep breath, trying to regain control.

“Who did she call?” Newton asked again. His eyes flickered between Shawn and Gus, waiting for an answer.

“We don't know,” Gus said, panicking.

“Don't lie to me,” Newton yelled angrily. The hand holding the gun was shaking. “I heard you call her name. You know who she is. Now, who. Did. She. Call?” He pointed the gun at Shawn, hand suddenly rock steady.

He swallowed hard. “She probably called the police.” He watched wide-eyed as Newton crouched down in front of him.

“I just wanted him to pay for what he did,” Newton said. He had a crazy look to his eyes. “Now everything has gotten out of control.” He ran a trembling hand through his hair. “I need to think logically. The police will be here soon.” He stood up slowly. “I should leave. But first I need to clean up this mess.” He pointed his gun at Shawn's head.

“Wait!” he shouted desperately. But Newton was already pulling on the trigger.

Two shots rang out. He closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to hit. A strangled gasp made him look up. Newton was staggering back from him, two blood spots blossoming on his chest. He looked at Shawn in confusion.

“Freeze!”

Shawn whipped his head around and saw Lassiter and Juliet coming cautiously around a pile of lumber, guns pointed at Newton. Juliet glanced at him fearfully while Lassiter kept his full attention on Newton. “Drop the gun!” he shouted.

Newton looked at Lassiter, swaying. He started to bring his gun up. Another shot rang out and Newton dropped to the floor. He landed facing Shawn, eyes wide and confused. He took one last shuddering breath and went still. Shawn watched as his eyes slowly turned glazed and lifeless. He couldn't look away as Lassiter walked cautiously over and checked for a pulse. It wasn't necessary. Shawn could see he was dead.

“Shawn!” He tore his gaze from the body. Juliet was crouching down in front of him. “Are you ok?”

“Fine,” he said, voice cracking. “I'd be better if I wasn't tied to this pillar.” Juliet pulled out a pocket knife and moved behind him. She started cutting away at the ropes. Turning his head, he saw Lassiter cutting Gus free. Gus looked over at him, wide-eyed in shock.

“There.” Juliet cut away the last of the ropes. He brought his hands in front of him, wincing as his cramped arm muscles protested. He flexed his fingers, trying to get the feeling back into his hands. “Can you stand?” He nodded numbly. She reached an arm down to help pull him to his feet.

The room immediately started spinning and he would have fallen if Juliet hadn't caught him. He leaned back against the pillar, closing his eyes. “Stop the ride. I want to get off,” he groaned. He winced as his head started throbbing again.

When the floor felt more like solid ground and less like a ship at sea, he risked opening his eyes. This time the room stayed still. Juliet was watching him intently. “All good,” he said, trying to grin reassuringly. He must look worse than he thought because she just looked more worried.

“What happened?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah, Spencer,” Lassiter said. He walked over with Gus, giving the body a wide berth. “Care to explain how you ended up tied to a pillar with a crazed killer about to shoot you?”

“Quick question first,” he said. “Did either of you see anyone else in the building?” He put his hand to his temple. “I thought I sensed someone else here.” He didn't want to mention Nikki's name just yet. Maybe she wasn't hit too bad. Maybe she made it out before Lassiter and Juliet showed up. He hoped so. He didn't want to think of her out there, bleeding, unable to move. Maybe already dead. He shuddered, trying to suppress the thought.

“No sign of anyone else,” Lassiter said slowly. He was watching Shawn carefully, as if trying to solve a puzzle. “I'll have backup do a sweep when they get here.” Shawn nodded, careful not to jostle his head too much. “Now quit stalling and tell us what happened.”

Shawn took a deep breath. This would take some creative storytelling. “I had sensed Newton was still in town,” he began. Juliet nodded, having heard this already at the station. “I kept getting something to do with the brother, that his brother was the key.” He gestured towards the building. “James Newton worked for Mendorra, the company that abandoned this building. No one was using it, or would think to connect it to him. It was the perfect hiding place.”

“And instead of calling us, you decided it would be better to come down here and get yourselves kidnapped,” Lassiter said mockingly.

“The link was weak. I needed to be closer to sense if Newton was actually here.” He looked at Gus uncertainly. Until they knew for sure what happened to Nikki, he wanted to keep her involvement out of this.“Unfortunately, something about the building blocked my senses. Newton was able to sneak up behind me and knock me out.”

The radio on Lassiter's belt crackled to life. “Backup's here,” he said. He walked a few steps away and started talking into the radio, directing the officers to search the building. Shawn listened closely, trying to make out what was being said over the radio.

“What about the phone call?” Juliet asked, jarring his concentration. “The one Lassiter got from Gus's phone.”

He exchanged a look with Gus. So that was who Nikki called. “No idea,” Shawn said at last. “Gus dropped his phone when Newton grabbed him. Someone else must have picked it up.”

Lassiter rejoined them. “Preliminary sweep didn't pick up anyone else in the building.” He grinned at Shawn. “Guess your 'senses' were off.” Shawn couldn't hide a sigh of relief. Nikki couldn't be hurt too bad if she had managed to leave the building. Lassiter gave him an odd look before continuing. “Paramedics are outside.” He looked Shawn and Gus over. “You two should probably get checked out.”

“I'm fine,” Shawn protested. He pushed away from the pillar. He made it two steps before the room started spinning again. This time Lassiter caught him.

“You probably have a concussion,” Lassiter said, holding him upright. “Have them check you over, just to be safe.” Shawn was surprised by the concern in his eyes.

“Aww, Lassie, I didn't know you cared,” he gushed. Lassiter just rolled his eyes, struggling to keep him upright. Gus quickly came over to help hold him up.

“O'Hara, we have work to do,” Lassiter said, once he was safely leaning against Gus.

Juliet looked at Shawn, torn. “Go,” he said. “I'll see you later at home.” He grinned. “How much more trouble could I possibly get into tonight?”

She looked at Gus. “Make sure he gets himself checked out.”

Gus nodded. “Definitely.” He patted Shawn on the shoulder. “Let's go, buddy.” He started leading Shawn away from the scene.

“Just a minute,” he said, pulling Gus to a stop. He turned around. “Hey Lassie!”

Lassiter was talking to McNab and Milton. He glanced over his shoulder. “Get out of here, Spencer.”

“Come over here a minute,” Shawn called.

Lassiter turned back to the officers. He gave them orders and they quickly walked off into the maze. He stalked over to Shawn. “What is it now?” he said irritably.

“I know we don't always get along, what with me being fun and you being boring,” he began. “And we end up fighting every week until you eventually let me solve your case for you.” Lassiter folded his arms, giving him a look of annoyance. “Forget that. What I'm trying to say. . .” He took a deep breath, looking away. “If you hadn't been here tonight, I'd be dead,” he said thickly. He could still see Newton's finger tightening on the trigger. He cleared his throat and looked up, meeting Lassiter's eyes. “So, thank you.”

Lassiter nodded. “Anytime.”

“Detective!” McNab called.

“Good night Shawn,” Lassiter said, nodding again. He turned and walked over to McNab. The two started conversing quietly.

Shawn stood there, watching him. “Did he just use my first name?” he asked Gus. “Or did I hallucinate that?”

“Yes, he did,” Gus said. “Come on.” He lead Shawn off through the maze. 

* * *

 

Lassiter walked over to McNab. “What did you find?”

“Blood splatter sir,” McNab reported. “About a dozen yards back.” He pointed out which direction to Lassiter.

He remembered the girl who had called him. It had sounded like she had been hit during the call. They had swept the area and seen no sign of her. “Show me.”

He followed McNab through the piles of debris until they found the blood. He crouched down to get a better look. Based on the splatter, whoever was hit was staying low to the ground. Like they were hiding from someone.

He stood up, turning to McNab. “Collect a sample. I want to run a DNA test. Make sure I get the results as soon as they come in.” McNab nodded and turned to leave. “And McNab?” Lassiter said, causing him to stop and turn back. “Keep this between us for now.” McNab nodded and left to collect an evidence kit. Lassiter looked again at the blood splatter. Someone had risked their life to save Shawn and Gus. Someone they were trying to hide from him. Someone whose voice he swore he heard before. “Who are you?” he muttered quietly. 

* * *

 

The paramedics cleared Shawn and Gus, though reluctantly in Shawn's case. His balance had improved during the walk outside but they were still worried he might have a concussion. He managed to persuade them to let him leave after promising someone would check on him every couple hours and that he would take it easy the next few days. From there, the two wound there way through the flashing police cars to the edge of the lot, where the Blueberry was parked.

“When Juliet said to get checked out, she also meant to listen to the paramedics,” Gus said with disapproval. “Not ignore their medical advise.”

“Then she should have said that,” Shawn stated. He yawned, feeling drained. It had been another long day. “Besides, the doctor at the hospital would have told me to do the same thing the paramedics did. And I didn't even have to wait around three hours.”

“You could have brain damage,” Gus said fretfully.

“I'm fine,” Shawn said forcefully. They were almost to the car. He thought he saw someone moving in the back seat. He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing who it was.

“Thanks to Lassiter,” Gus muttered.

Shawn stopped next to the car. “No, thanks to Nikki.” He opened the back door. “You can come out now.”

Nikki crawled awkwardly out of the back seat, cradling her left arm. “Hey Shawn, Gus.” She looked down nervously. “So, how much trouble am I in?”

“Let me see your arm,” Shawn said firmly. She turned, holding it out towards him. She had been hit in the upper part of the arm. When he pulled back her sleeve, he saw fresh blood well up from the injury site.

“That looks bad,” Gus said worriedly. “You should probably go to the hospital.”

“No,” Shawn and Nikki said together.

“If she goes to the hospital with a gunshot wound, they'll put her into foster care for sure,” Shawn explained. “And they'll probably arrest us.” He examined the wound more closely. “It's not too deep. Gus, get your first aid kit out of the car.” Gus opened the trunk and started digging through his pharmaceutical samples for the kit.

Shawn lowered his voice. “You called Lassiter?” he asked. Nikki nodded. “Why?” he asked, puzzled. “Why not call the police?”

“He was the most dependable person I could think of,” Nikki explained. “You needed help fast. Based on the stories you told me, I knew Lassiter would come as quickly as possible.” She looked seriously at Shawn. “He's a good friend. You should be nicer to him.”

“We're not friends,” Shawn scoffed. Nikki just raised an eyebrow, saying nothing.

Gus slammed the trunk of his car. “Found it.” He hurried over with the kit. “I'll just wait over there,” he said, pointing to the other side of the car. Shawn knew he hated the sight of blood. He nodded, grinning as Gus beat a hasty retreat. He opened the kit and started treating Nikki's arm.

“How did you make it past the police to Gus's car?” Shawn asked.

Nikki winced as he cleaned out the wound. “After Newton shot me, I ended up not too far from where you were tied up. I had a pretty clear view of what was happening. I hid there until Lassiter and Juliet showed up.” She swallowed, looking away.

He realized she must have seen Lassiter shoot Newton. She had probably never seen a dead body before, let alone had someone shot and killed in front of her. That wasn't something you just walked away from unaffected. It must be hard for her. Hell, it was hard for him, even with everything he'd seen. “You ok?” he asked quietly. He grabbed a bandage and started wrapping her arm.

She nodded, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “Once I knew you were safe. I snuck out to the car right before the rest of the police showed up.” She grinned wryly at Shawn. “I guess they're used to seeing Gus's car at crime scenes. They didn't even bother looking inside.”

“There you go,” he said, taping the last bandage in place. “Good as new. Well, eventually.” He threw the supplies back in the kit. “Next time, try not to get shot.”

“I'll try,” she said huskily. He could see tears forming in her eyes. She blinked and looked away.

“Hey,” he said worriedly. “You're ok now. Everything will be fine.” He tilted her head up to look her in the eyes. “He's gone. No one's going to hurt you,” he said seriously.

She gave a strangled sob and threw her arms around him. “I thought he was going to kill you,” she said into his chest. She started crying softly, clinging tightly to him.

Shawn carefully wrapped his arms around her. He had been so focused on keeping her safe he hadn't considered she how worried she must have been about him. He could feel her trembling and held her tighter. “I'm fine, thanks to you,” he said quietly. He remembered the terror he felt when Newton went after her and he heard those gunshots. He swallowed hard. “Just don't scare me like that again.” He looked down at her. “I can't afford to loose my apprentice.” She gave a short laugh, sobs slowly subsiding.

He stood there, holding Nikki, lit by the flashing lights of the police cars, relieved they had both made it through the night alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, what a night. Things were looking pretty iffy for Nikki and Shawn there for awhile.  
> Please review.


	7. Sunday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to a normal length for this chapter. Hope everyone enjoys it.

_Sunday_

 

Nikki gently eased open the back door of the Psych office. She smiled to herself. Shawn had been getting better about remembering to lock the front door, but still forgot about the one in the back. She slipped inside, quietly closing the door behind her.

The office was empty, which wasn't surprising. Last night had been another late night for everyone. Shawn and Gus had driven her back to Henry's place to find the ex-cop waiting up for them. Henry had taken one look at Shawn, swaying on his feet, and sent him home, saving all of his lecturing for Nikki. That had lasted for a good half hour. He ranged in topic from how irresponsible she had been to how lucky she was not to have gotten hurt. She tugged lightly on the bandage on her arm. Shawn had let her borrow his sweater to cover up the injury, both of them agreeing that it would be best to hide it from Henry. If he had seen it, he would probably have yelled at her all night. And he probably would have dragged Shawn back over to yell at him too. It was really just better if Henry never found out.

She went over to Shawn's desk and sat down, yawning. Despite how exhausted she had been last night, she had barely gotten any sleep. The pain of her arm had kept her awake and what sleep she did get was broken by nightmares. Sometimes she wished she didn't have a photographic memory. It made the nightmares that much more vivid. She had eventually given up on sleep and come down here. She figured Shawn would show up at the office eventually.

She slowly spun the chair around, wondering what to do until he got here. He had looked really tired last night, so would probably sleep in. That left her with some time to kill. She wondered if he had anything good on TiVo. Her glance fell on an envelope sitting on the desk. She stopped spinning the chair and picked it up.

It was from the hospital in Denver. She recognized the name on the return address as one of the nurses who took care of her mom. Curious, she dumped the contents of the envelope on the desk. A picture and a folded piece of paper fell out. She picked up the picture first. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw who was in it. After a long moment, she placed it carefully back on the desk. She then picked up the paper and unfolded it. It was a letter to Shawn. When she saw who it was from, her eyes widened. “Why would you write a letter to Shawn?” she asked quietly. Completely mystified, and a little unsettled, she started to read. 

* * *

 

He was in the abandoned building, tied to a pillar. Newton had taken off after Nikki, gun in hand. One shot had already been fired. He sat there breathlessly, hoping Nikki was safe.

Another shot rang out, followed by a cry of pain. “Nikki!” he shouted. He started tugging on his bonds, drawing blood in his attempt to free himself.

He heard the sound of running footsteps, then someone stumbled into view. It was Nikki, bleeding heavily from a shot to her abdomen. “Shawn,” she gasped, looking at him accusingly. A trickle of blood leaked from the corner of her mouth. “You said you would keep me safe.” He watched in horror as she collapsed to the ground. Her eyes turned glazed and lifeless. “Nikki!” he screamed, trying desperately to wrench himself free.

Suddenly Newton was standing in front of him, gun pointed at his head. “One more complication to take care of,” he said, before pulling the trigger.

Shawn woke with a gasp, heart pounding, the echo of a gunshot still playing in his head. He sat up, groaning as his abused body protested the movement. Still disoriented from the dream, he glanced around quickly to figure out where he was. He relaxed slightly as the familiar view of his bedroom met his eyes. He was safe at home. Newton was dead. He and Nikki were fine. He kept repeating that to himself as he took deep, shuddering breaths, trying to slow his racing heart. Slowly, the dream started to fade, the fear and anxiety along with it.

He glanced at the alarm clock and sighed. It was way too early for him to be up, after the night he had had. Actually, the last few nights. He hadn't gotten a full nights sleep in a week. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. He knew from past experience it was no use trying to fall back asleep. The nightmare would just come back, as vividly as the first time. It was one of the drawbacks of having a photographic memory. Sure, it meant he could solve crimes and play at being a cop. But it also meant waking in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, haunted by what he had seen. Some days it just didn't seem worth it.

He forced his mind away from that depressing thought and levered himself out of bed. If he was going to be up this early, he needed coffee. He paused as he took in his disheveled and dirt smeared appearance in the mirror. He had been too tired last night to do anything besides fall straight into bed. First a shower, then coffee.

He stood under the hot spray for what felt like hours, letting the soothing heat relax his tense muscles. He only got out once the water ran cold. Afterward, feeling refreshed and slightly more human, he walked into the kitchen, He found a note taped to the coffee maker.

_Shawn,_

_Needed at the station. Didn't want to wake you._

_Try to get some rest._

_Love,_

_Juliet_

She had put a little heart instead of a dot over the 'i' in her name. He smiled. He had never figured out how he had been lucky enough to end up with Juliet. They had been dancing around each other for years, never available at the same time, constantly missing out on each other. He had almost given up hope it would ever happen. Finally, his chance had come. He had summoned up his courage and asked her out. It had been the best decision he ever made.

Still smiling, he went to the cabinet to get the coffee. His smile faded when he saw a bare spot where the coffee was usually kept. He dug through the whole cabinet, but still came up empty handed. He had a sneaking suspicion he knew where the coffee had disappeared to. Luckily, he had a Plan B He went to the pantry and dug around behind the can goods. He kept a hidden stash of coffee back there, just for this situation. Still nothing. Grumbling, he went back to the coffee maker and grabbed the note. Flipping it over, he found more writing on the back.

_I knew about the pantry, Shawn. Try some tea._

He couldn't help giving a wry grin. As much as he loved her, she could still drive him crazy. She was getting much better at figuring out his secrets. Soon he wouldn't be able to keep anything from her.

He went into the living room and grabbed the remote. Flopping down on the couch, he started flipping through channels, looking for something to watch. After the third time through the guide, he gave up and turned the TV off. 200+ channels and still nothing on. Bored, he sat there, wondering what to do with his day. The house was quiet and peaceful. It was starting to get on his nerves.

He looked at the clock. It was midmorning. Considering their late night, Gus was probably still asleep and wouldn't appreciate Shawn waking him up. But he needed to get out of the house. His bike was still at his dad's place, so it was either Gus or walk. He grabbed the portable phone. He was pretty sure he remembered the number to Gus's new work cell.

The first time the phone rang five times before going to voicemail. The second time it rang twice, then to voicemail. The third call went straight to voicemail.

“Fourth times the charm,” he said, dialing Gus's number again. This time he finally got a response, if a short one.

“No, Shawn,” Gus said, followed by a dial tone.

Shawn called him again. “Dude, I didn't even ask anything yet,” he said indignantly as soon as Gus picked up.

“What do you want Shawn?” Gus asked irritably.

“I need a ride.”

“No,” Gus said, hanging up.

“Some people are grouchy in the morning,” he muttered, dialing again. “Dude, stop hanging up already,” he whined once Gus answered.

He heard Gus sigh. “Do you have any idea how late I got home last night? I had to wait three hours for Juliet to show up before I could leave your place.”

“You didn't have to hang around,” he said, surprised. He could barely remember getting home last night. He hadn't realized Gus had stayed around. “You could have just gone home.”

“Shawn, you most likely have a concussion,” Gus reminded him. “Remember what the paramedics said? Someone needed to check on you, make sure you were ok.”

“Aww, Gus, how sweet,” he said, using his most cutesy voice. “When did you turn into a girl?”

“Shut up Shawn,” Gus said crossly.

Chuckling, he asked, “Now, how about that ride?”

“Aren't you supposed to be resting?” Gus asked wearily.

“I can rest at the office,” he argued. “Besides, I have to call that PI today, remember?”

“Not for another couple of hours,” Gus pointed out.

“Come on, it's so boring here,” he whined. “Would you rather I walked? I don't think that would be very safe, considering my head injury.” He grinned to himself. Gus couldn't say no now.

Gus was silent for a moment, then sighed in annoyance. “Fine,” he said, causing Shawn's grin to widen. Gus was so predictable. “I'll pick you up in twenty minutes.”

“Thanks dude,” he said. “Any chance we can stop for coffee along the way?” There was silence, then a dial tone. “Guess that's a no then,” he said, hanging up the phone. 

* * *

 

Shawn slurped his drink happily. “Suzy really does make the best smoothies.” He took another long slurp. While Gus had said no to the coffee, he had managed to convince his friend to drive across town for smoothies. “Don't you agree?”

Gus just grunted, pulling into their parking spot in front of Psych. Shawn rolled his eyes. “Come on, man. You can't still be hung up about this.”

Gus shut off the car and looked at him. “I don't think it's right conning free smoothies out of her.”

“I'm doing no such thing,” Shawn said indignantly. “She's merely expressing her gratitude for the work I do helping the citizens of Santa Barbara.” He took another sip of his free smoothie. She really had a talent for fruity drinks. “Besides, cops get free things all the time.”

“You're not a cop,” Gus pointed out.

“I'm practically a cop,” Shawn said conceitedly. “I solve crimes like a cop and catch bad guys just like a real cop.” He smacked Gus in the shoulder excitedly. “Dude, you think the chief would make me an honorary cop? Like with a badge and stuff?”

“No,” Gus said shortly, getting out of the car. He started walking towards the office.

Shawn jumped out of the car and jogged to catch up with Gus. “You're grumpy. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.”

“You woke me up,” Gus said, scowling.

“No, I don't think that's it,” he said, contemplating. He snapped his fingers. “I bet it's because you had to pay for your drink, while mine was free.” He took another long slurp from said drink to prove his point.

“It's not like you solved those cases on you're own,” Gus grumbled. He pulled out his keys to unlock the door.

“I knew it,” Shawn crowed. “You're jealous!”

“Maybe I am,” Gus admitted, opening the door. “But that's not the point. You're taking advantage of her. She was flirting with you the whole time.”

“Really?” Shawn asked innocently. “I hadn't noticed.” He finished his smoothie and threw the container out in the can by the door.

Gus looked at him skeptically. “You have a girlfriend.” He sighed when he saw Shawn had left the door open. “Really dude?” he asked sarcastically as he went to close it.

“Relax Gus,” Shawn said. “Flirting never hurt anyone.”

They walked into the main area of the office and stopped short. Nikki was standing there, arms crossed, waiting for them. She looked angry and her gaze was fixed on Shawn.

“Hey Nikki,” he said uncertainly. No response. That was a bad sign. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gus sidle away from him, getting out of the danger zone. “How are you?” The silence was starting to make him nervous. “Do you want a smoothie? I'm sure Gus could go get you one. Right Gus?” He looked at Gus, who glared at him, clearly not wanting to get involved.

“How could you Shawn?” Nikki asked finally. He was surprised by the level of anger in her voice. “How could you do this to me?”

“Do what?” he asked, completely clueless.

“Don't play dumb,” she said angrily. “How could you lie to me?”

“Lie to you?” he asked. He was starting to sound like a parrot, repeating what she said back to her. The lack of sleep must be getting to him. Usually he was more articulate than that.

“Yes, lie to me!” she shouted. “I don't know why I didn't see it coming. You spend your whole life lying. Why would I be any different?” She laughed bitterly to herself.

Shawn was completely baffled. He had been more honest with her than he was with Gus. He racked his brain, trying to figure out what she was so mad about. “Okay, maybe I wasn't an actual sheriff,” he said, trying to break the tension. “But the people of Old Sonora loved me.”

“Just stop with the jokes,” she said, eyes blazing in fury. “I found the letter.” She went over to his desk and picked up the envelope from the hospital. “How long have you been hiding this from me?” she asked, waving it at him.

“Look, I just got that yesterday,” he said defensively. “I haven't even read it yet.”

“I don't believe you,” she said, tears forming in her eyes. She wiped them away angrily, still glaring at him. “I thought I could trust you.” He could hear the betrayal in her voice.

“Nikki, I've done nothing but try to help you,” he said soothingly. He cautiously moved closer to her. She glared at him, wiping her eyes, but remained silent. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he said. He couldn't stand seeing her so upset. Knowing she blamed him made it even worse. He wanted to fix this, but didn't even know what he had done wrong. He moved closer, almost within touching distance.

She looked away, tears running down her face. “I don't believe you,” she said softly.

“You can trust me,” he said, giving her a small smile. “I promised to keep you safe while I looked for your dad, and I will.”

Apparently it was the wrong thing to say. Her head snapped up and he took a step back at the raw fury in her gaze. “You know what? Screw you Shawn!” she yelled. She thrust the envelope into his hands. “I should have never saved you from Newton.” Sobbing, she stormed out of the office.

“Nikki!” he called, starting after her. The slamming of the office door was his only reply. He stood there in shock, wondering what had just happened.

Gus walked towards him cautiously. “What was about?” he asked quietly.

“I don't know,” Shawn replied. He looked down at the envelope in his hands. “But I think I know how to find out.” He walked over to his desk. Turning the envelope upside down, he dumped out the contents. A folded piece of paper and a photograph fell out.

He picked up the picture first. It showed a younger Nikki with a woman who was clearly her mother. He stared at the photo. The woman seemed oddly familiar. Puzzled, he put the picture down and picked up the paper. Unfolding it, he found it was a letter. He looked at the signature. “It's from Nikki's mom,” he said in surprise, looking up at Gus.

“What does it say?” Gus asked urgently.

Shawn read the letter. Partway through, he stiffened, eyes widening in shock. “No way,” he muttered.

“What?” Gus asked eagerly.

Shawn didn't even hear Gus, too overwhelmed by what the letter contained. When he reached the end, he read the letter a second time, then a third. Each time it told him the same thing. He saw the paper shaking and realized he was trembling. He sat down heavily, dropping his head into his hands. It was too much to take in, especially after last night.

“Shawn?” Gus asked anxiously.

He raised his head. Gus was looking at him worriedly. “Are you ok?” he asked carefully.

“I didn't see it,” Shawn said, half to himself. “I'm supposed to be so observant and I never saw what was right in front of me.” He thought back to all the little things he had noticed in the past week. Her infectious smile. Her tendency to babble when nervous. The photographic memory. And her eyes. The same eyes he saw in the mirror every day. He started laughing. “No wonder that PI found the situation funny.” His laughter had a slightly hysterical edge to it.

“Shawn, what's going on?” Gus asked, sounding alarmed by his behavior.

His laughter died off. He picked up the picture and handed it to Gus. “That is Sarah Peterson,” he explained. Gus nodded slowly, still looking puzzled. “About 15 years ago, a young guy on a motorcycle was traveling along the east coast. One night he was stranded by a rainstorm in a small town in North Carolina. Luckily, one of the waitresses at the local diner was kind enough to let him stay the night at her place.” He pointed to the picture in Gus's hand.

Gus looked at him in shock. “You mean – “

“Yeah,” Shawn said. He leaned back in his chair, grinning wryly. “Nikki's my daughter.” 

* * *

 

Shawn was all for chasing after Nikki right away. He understood now why she had been so upset. He would be too, if it looked like someone he trusted had betrayed him. Especially if that person was family. He needed to talk to her, explain his side of the story. The whole thing was his fault and he couldn't rest until he made things right. Gus had argued against it, saying it was best to give her some space. She'd come back when she was ready. Shawn knew he was right, but he couldn't just sit still. He compromised by limiting his search to areas around the Psych office, hoping she hadn't gone far. When the search turned up nothing, he returned to wait.

“Calm down,” Gus said from his desk. Shawn had been pacing around the office for the last ten minutes. “Everything is going to be fine.”

Shawn glanced at the clock. “It's already been two hours,” he said worriedly. “What if something happened to her?” His mind raced through all the things that could befall a 15 year old girl wandering the streets alone. He started pacing faster. “She could have been hit by a car, or attacked in an alley, or kidnapped – “

Gus got up from his desk and grabbed Shawn, pulling him to a stop. “Snap out of it,” he said, looking Shawn straight in the eye, making sure he had his attention. “Relax. She's smart. I'm sure she's fine.”

Shawn took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Once he started to relax, Gus let him go. “Thanks man,” he said. “I guess I was overreacting a little.” He grinned sheepishly at Gus.

“You think?” Gus asked, arching an eyebrow. He walked back to his desk, giving Shawn time to regain his composure. “She needs some time to sort things out. It's a lot to take in.”

“Tell me about it,” Shawn muttered. He plopped down in his desk chair, looking for something to keep him occupied. He spotted a tennis ball on the shelf behind him. Grabbing it, he started bouncing it off the wall. _Thunk._

“You know, the only person I've ever seen yell at you like that is your dad,” Gus said thoughtfully. _Thunk_. “I guess she gets her temper from him.” He shook his head in mock pity, trying to lighten the mood. “Sorry dude.”

_Thunk._ “I'm more worried about what she got from me,” Shawn said, staring at the wall. _Thunk._ “I don't exactly have the best track record with emotional situations.” _Thunk._ “What if she decides to run?” _Th_ _u_ _nk._ The ball hit the wall at an angle, veering off across the room. It hit the lamp in the corner, knocking it over with the sound of breaking glass. “Perfect,” he said with a sigh. He got up, grabbing a trash can.

“Shawn,” Gus said worriedly.

“Kind of busy Gus,” he said, kneeling down by the broken lamp. He started picking up shards of glass and depositing them in the trash can. His right hand slipped on one of the more jagged pieces. “Damn it!” Blood was quickly welling up, dripping to the floor. “Can't anything go right today?” he muttered darkly. A first kit fell in front of him. He looked up. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Gus said, averting his gaze. “Make sure to get the blood off the floor.” He grabbed a broom and started sweeping up the broken glass.

Shawn quickly bandaged his hand and wiped up the blood. “All better,” he said, holding up his hand to show Gus. He grabbed the first aid kit with his other hand and stood up. He went to put the kit back by the sink.

Gus dumped the last of the glass shards in the trash can. He put the broom back and looked seriously at Shawn. “Do you really think she'll run off?”

Shawn sighed, looking away. “It's what I would do.” He snorted. “Hell, if it was me, I would be long gone by now.” He grabbed the tennis ball off the floor and went back over to his desk. He placed it down carefully, keeping his back to Gus. “She already ran away once coming here.”

“I don't think she'll run,” Gus said slowly. He appeared to be giving this some thought. “She had nothing to lose last time she ran. No home, no family. Now she has a place to stay and people who care about her. And she has you.” Shawn turned around, looking at Gus uncertainly. “She may be mad at you and hate your guts right now. But you're still her father. She's been waiting 15 years to meet you.” He gave Shawn a reassuring look. “She's not going to leave now.”

“I hope you're right,” Shawn said. The office phone rang, breaking the tension. He answered it automaticaley. “This is Psych. Unfortunately, disturbances in the ether mean we aren't taking any new cases right now – “

“What the hell did you do?” said an angry voice, cutting him off.

He blinked. “Dad?” He looked over at Gus in confusion.

“Nikki just showed up in tears, yelling that you're a bastard and that she never wants to see you again,” Henry said. Shawn closed his eyes in relief. “You better have a good explanation.”

“Is she ok?” he asked quietly.

“Besides the screaming,” Henry said matter of factly. He gave a sigh. “What did you do now?”

“Doesn't matter. I'll be right there.” He hung up the phone over his dad's protests. Gus was already grabbing his keys. “She's at my dad's,” he told Gus.

“So I was right,” Gus said with a grin.

“Drive now. Gloat later,” Shawn said, pushing Gus out the door. 

* * *

 

Shawn hesitated in front of his father's door. He usually just barged in, not bothering with courtesies like knocking. But given the situation, maybe this time he should knock. He stood there uncertainly, knowing he was overthinking this. He was saved the trouble of making a decision when Henry opened the door.

“I don't appreciate screaming teenagers running through my house,” he said, letting Shawn inside. “I got enough of that when you were growing up.” He noticed the bandage on Shawn's hand and rolled his eyes. “Can't you go one day without injuring yourself?”

“Apparently not,” Shawn said distracted. “Where's Nikki?” The house was quiet and he didn't see any sign of her.

Henry sighed. “Out back. She said she wanted to be alone.” He looked speculatively at Shawn. “Whatever you did, it really upset her.”

“I'm trying to fix that,” Shawn said. He looked hesitantly at his father. He didn't want his dad to overhear this conversation. “Look, it might take awhile and I can't promise there won't be more yelling. . .”

Henry took the hint. “I have some errands I can run.” He looked towards the back door. “I hope you can fix this.”

“Me too,” Shawn said quietly.

Henry patted him on the shoulder. “Good luck kid. Don't screw it up.”

Shawn rolled his eyes as his father left. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he muttered. He walked slowly over to the back door. He could see Nikki sitting on the picnic table in the yard, staring out towards the beach. He hesitated, suddenly nervous. What if he couldn't fix things? What if he had blown his one chance to connect with his daughter? He had only known her a few days and already she had become an important part of his life. No, he had to fix this. He would fix this. He took a deep breath, strengthening his resolve. He slid open the door and stepped out onto the back porch.

He put up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. It was a gorgeous day. The sky was clear and that brilliant blue only seen on lazy summer days. It was warm without being overly humid or muggy. It was the perfect day to kick back and relax. He barely registered any of this, his attention focused on the girl on the table. “Hey,” he said softly. She stiffened slightly but otherwise gave no indication she had heard him. He walked slowly over to the picnic table. He climbed up and sat on the end opposite her. Still no response. He sighed softly. It looked like it was up to him to get the conversation started.

“So. . . “ He cast around for an innocuous topic of conversation. “Nice weather we're having,” he said finally. The weather was always safe to talk about.

“Go away Shawn,” Nikki said, angling her body away from him. Her voice was thick from crying and he saw her discreetly wipe at her eyes. It hurt, seeing her so upset because of him.

“Nikki, just let me explain,” he said plaintively.

“Just go away,” she said forcefully. She sniffed, wiping her eyes again.

They sat there in silence for awhile. Shawn cast his mind around, trying to figure out how to reach her. Maybe a different approach would work. He leaned back on his hands, looking out at the ocean. “You know, technically, it was Lassiter that saved me,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. He purposely avoided looking at her directly. Instead, he watched her out of the corner of his eye, waiting to see her response.

She jerked. It was a small movement. As if she started to turn towards him, but changed her mind right away. But it was enough for him to know it was working. “Scream at me, say you wish I was dead, whatever,” he said carelessly. She gave a small start at the word 'dead.' “But at least get your facts straight,” he continued. “It's all thanks to Lassiter that I'm here.” He saw her fists clench slightly. Anger was good. Anger would get her talking. “I should make him a cake or something,” he mused.

“Lassiter may have shot Newton, but he was only there because I called him,” Nikki snapped. “Therefore, I saved you.” She turned and glared at him. “You never even said thank you.”

He sat up and turned towards her. Her hazel eyes were red rimmed and sparked with anger. “You're right,” he said calmly. She seemed taken aback at his words. He took a deep breath, looking her right in the eyes. “Thank you, Nikki, for saving my life.”

“You're welcome,” she said quietly, anger fading. She turned away again.

He had gotten her to acknowledge him. Good. Now to keep her talking. “How's the arm?” he asked. He could see the edge of the bandage sticking out from under her sleeve. He hoped Henry hadn't seen it when she ran past earlier.

She tugged on her sleeve to cover the bandage. “It hurts,” she replied shortly. She glanced at him quickly, then back towards the beach. “How's your head?” she asked. He heard a touch of concern in her voice.

“It hurts,” he replied, just as succinctly. He held up his hand. “This hurts too.”

She looked over at his hand. “What did you do?” she asked, turning slightly towards him.

“Had an accident with a lamp,” he said, grinning sheepishly.

She rolled her eyes. “You're an idiot.” But she smiled slightly at him.

“Some would call me a genius,” he said proudly.

“What, the other wackos at the loony bin?” she retorted.

“Hey, don't make fun of the crazies,” he said indignantly. “Wackos are people too. The ones at the hospital really looked up to me.”

“You spent time in a mental hospital?” She didn't sound surprised.

“I was undercover,” he said defensively.

“Uh huh,” she said skeptically. They lapsed into silence again, although with a great deal less tension than last time.

“How long have you known?” she asked quietly. “And no lies, or jokes, or anything.” She looked at him seriously. “I want the truth.”

“Since this morning.” She looked at him skeptically. He held up his hands. “I swear it's the truth,” he insisted. “I got the letter yesterday, but didn't get a chance to read it. Someone ran off after a murderer.” He looked her straight in the eye, willing her to believe him.

She studied his face for a moment, then looked away. “I'm sorry I ran off,” she said quietly. “And I'm sorry I yelled at you this morning. The letter was open, so I assumed you read it. I shouldn't have said the things I did.” She glanced at him, embarrassed. “I'm glad you're not dead.”

“Me too,” he said sincerely. “Apology accepted. And for the record, I have never lied to you. Not about something important anyway.” He looked out towards the beach. “There's very few people I'm that honest with,” he said softly.

He saw her nod slowly. “Shawn?” she asked hesitantly. “What happens now?”

He sighed, looking down at his hands. “Well, the police in Denver will have to be notified that you're here. You are a missing person after all.” The chief was already aware of the situation. He hoped he could use that to his advantage. Although he wasn't sure if he should tell Vick the real identity of Nikki's father right away. He considered how he could keep his secret while sorting things out with the police.

“Are you going to send me back?” she asked quietly.

His thoughts slammed to a halt. He looked at her, shocked. “Of course not. I made a promise to keep you safe.” After everything that had happened, after everything he had learned, that was the last thing on his mind.

“You made that promise before you knew the truth,” she said, looking down. “When I was just a case, some kid you were helping out because you were bored.” She took a shuddering breath, sounding close to tears. “I've already caused you enough problems. I thought it might be easier for you, if you sent me back.”

“You were never just a case to me, even before I knew the truth,” he said softly. “You're my daughter. And you're never going back.” She looked up at him, tears trickling down her face. “Come here,” he said, pulling her to him. He wrapped his arms around Nikki, hugging her tightly. She started crying softly into his shirt. “If there's one thing my dad taught me, it was you never turn your back on family. So like it or not, we're stuck with each other.” He looked down fondly at her. “Besides, you're a great kid. Who wouldn't want you around?”

She pulled away, looking up at him. “Do you really mean that?” she asked hopefully.

He nodded. “I really do.” She grinned, wiping at her eyes. “That doesn't mean it's going to be easy,” he cautioned. “There's a lot that needs to be sorted out.” He hesitated. “It might be best if you stay here for now. I'll need time to talk to Juliet.” He wondered how she would take it. They had been taking their relationship pretty slow. They had just moved in together. Now he wanted to add a kid to the mix.

“What are you going to tell her? And your dad?” She grinned cheekily at him. “Or should I say grandpa?”

Shawn shuddered. “I can't even imagine how that conversation ends well.” His dad would kill him. He had always told Shawn to be responsible. And this had to count as the most irresponsible thing he had ever done. He groaned, covering his face in his hands. And he was getting along so well with his dad too.

“We could keep it a secret.”

He looked at Nikki in surprise. He couldn't have heard her right. “What?”

“It would be fun,” she said lightly. “Having this big secret nobody knows about. Think of the fun we could have.” She grinned at him “Besides, I think Henry would be a lot more lenient if he didn't know I was his granddaughter.”

He looked doubtfully at Nikki. “I don't know,” he said carefully. “It makes it seem like I'm ashamed of you, keeping this a secret.” The idea was making him uncomfortable. Sure, he kept secrets from people all the time, but never one like this.

“It was my idea” she reminded him. “I know you're not ashamed. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks.” She looked down, fiddling with a hole in her jeans. “I've already disrupted you're life enough,” she said quietly. “I don't want to cause anymore trouble. And it will give us both time to get used to this before everyone finds out.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. It would make things a lot easier for him. But this wasn't just about him, it was about Nikki too. She would have to live with the lie just as much as he would. He wasn't sure he could ask such a thing of her.

“I'm sure.” She looked up at him, face serious. “You've done so much to help me already. It's my turn to help you.”

He nodded. “OK. But only for a little while. Just until I get things sorted out.” That couldn't take too long. A couple of weeks, tops.

“Deal,” she said, nodding. “Besides, I'll see you all the time anyway. I am your psychic apprentice.” She grinned cheekily at him.

Shawn grinned back. “Yes you are. And speaking of which,” he said, standing up. “I believe last time I was here, I was educating you on the finer points of 80's filmography.” He took her hand and pulled her off the table. “No daughter of mine should be that ignorant of such an important period of movie history.”

She rolled her eyes as he lead her into the house. “Whatever you say, dad.” 

* * *

 

Henry pulled up to the house and shut off the truck. He had stretched out his errands as long as he could but eventually he had to return to home. He had given Shawn plenty of time to clear things up with Nikki. He hoped he had succeeded. He had dealt with enough teenage drama while Shawn was growing up.

He took a moment to survey the scene. He saw Shawn's bike still parked in the driveway. He must still be here, unless he called someone for a ride. Either way, it would be best to enter the house cautiously. He got out of the truck, quietly closing the door behind him. He walked quickly to the door, watching for any signs of movement from the windows. Nothing. He slowly opened the door, listening for any sounds of an argument. He heard the TV playing in the front room but nothing else. It was oddly quiet, but at least there was no yelling. He silently closed the door behind him. “Shawn? Nikki?” No answer. Feeling a little foolish for sneaking around in his own home, he crept through the kitchen. He peeked around the doorway into the living room.

Shawn was sitting on the couch, arm wrapped around Nikki. She was nestled up against him, head pillowed on his shoulder. Both were fast asleep. He snuck into the room and turned off the TV. He then retreated back to the doorway, being careful not to disturb anything, He looked at the two of them, deep in thought. Shawn had always been a bit of a slacker. That fact had frustrated him while Shawn was growing up. He could have been a great cop, if he could just stay focused. Henry had eventually accepted the fact that that was just the way Shawn was. He rarely took anything seriously.

But he took Nikki seriously. In fact, he had never seen Shawn work harder on a case. It gave him hope that his son might finally be growing up. It was about time. Nikki shifted against Shawn, causing him to tighten his hold on her. It was unthinking, a reflexive movement in his sleep. Instinctive, even. Henry smiled, thinking of how protective Shawn had grown of Nikki over the past week. He had this need to take care of her, make sure she was all right. And he was good with her, this morning not withstanding. All skills that any good parent needed.

Henry chuckled softly to himself. Sure, Shawn would make a great father, someday. Too bad it wouldn't be anytime soon. He quietly headed upstairs, leaving the two on the couch to their slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go.


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter.

_Monday_

 

_Again_

 

The morning light shone down on Santa Barbara. It gave warmth to the few beach goers out on a workday morning. The light flowed gently into an office with the word 'Psych' in green lettering on the window. However, the occupants inside were too distracted by their game to notice.

“Dude, seriously, knock it off,” Gus said, glaring at Shawn. His character had just died for the fifth time that morning.

“My hand slipped,” Shawn said with a smirk. “I am playing with an injury.” He held up his bandaged right hand as proof.

“That's it, Shawn,” Gus said, turning back to the game. “You've killed me for the last time.” He started mashing buttons, staring intently at the screen.

“Doubt it,” Shawn said confidently. “You say that every time we play. You're problem is that you're too trusting.” He gasped as his character was blown to bits by a grenade. “Dude, not cool.”

“And your problem is that you talk too much,” Gus said smugly.

“I do not talk too much,” he said indignantly. “I'm just trying to share some of my vast wisdom with the world.”

“Is that what you call it?”

Shawn and Gus turned around. “Hi Nikki,” Shawn said, a warm smile filling his face. She smiled shyly back. Things were better since the talk yesterday, but this new father/daughter relationship would take some getting used to.

“Hi.” She looked with interest at the screen.“What are you guys doing?”

On screen Gus's character died once again. “Not playing video games,” Gus grumbled. He reached over and shut off the console.

“You don't need to stop because of me,” she said quickly.

“Gus is just a sore looser,” Shawn said, grinning.

“That's not why,” Gus said, standing up. “It's because you cheat.” He nodded at Nikki and walked over to his desk.

“Then why do you keep playing with me?” Shawn called after him. Gus was saved from coming up with a response by the phone ringing. He answered it, turning his back on Shawn.

Nikki took advantage of the open seat and plopped down next to Shawn. “So this is what a psychic detective does between cases.”

“Pretty much,” he said. He glanced over at her. “How's the arm?”

“Better,” she said. She pulled up her sleeve to show him a fresh bandage. “It's starting to itch.”

“Good. That means it's healing.” He looked at her sternly. “Make sure to keep changing the bandages. You don't want it to get infected.”

“You're not going to get all overprotective every time I get a scrap, are you?”

“It's not a scrap, you were shot,” he said defensively. “And of course I'm overprotective. I am your father, after all.” Saying the words out loud felt weird. He had always thought, someday, of having kids. But that was always just a vague idea, somewhere far off in the future. Even now, with Juliet, kids were still a ways down the road. Last week he would have said in a few years, maybe. Now. . . He noticed his daughter staring at him. “What?”

“It's nice,” she said happily. She looked away, blushing. “Having a father, I mean.” She cleared her throat, glancing at him slyly. “Even if he cheats.”

“You better watch it, young lady,” he said, trying to channel Henry's gruff tone. “Or you're grounded.” He kept a straight face for a few seconds, until Nikki snorted. He started laughing, she quickly joining in.

“That was the chief,” Gus said, walking over. He watched the two of them for a moment. “Do I even want to know?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Never mind,” Shawn said, letting the laughter trail off. “Do we have a case?” he asked hopefully.

“Burglary down town,” Gus said. “They think it's related to the one from last week.” Shawn remembered Juliet talking about a robbery, but had been too distracted at the time to find out more.

“Can I come?” Nikki asked eagerly.

“Well,” he said slowly. She looked pleadingly at him. “Vick said she doesn't want you at the crime scenes,” he said apologetically.

She pouted, slumping back on the couch. After a moment, she looked up at him. “What did she say exactly?” she asked shrewdly.

He thought back to the conversation a few days ago. A slow smile crept across his face. “That she doesn't want to hear about you wandering around crime scenes.”

“If I stayed by you, I wouldn't be wandering around,” she said speculatively. “I'd be under your supervision the whole time.” She grinned cheekily at him. “After all, the chief didn't say I couldn't go to a crime scene. I just can't wander.”

“That's my girl,” he said proudly. “Work those loopholes.”

Gus sighed in disgust. “The two of you are going to get us in trouble.” He shook his head but went to go get his keys.

“Just one more thing,” Nikki said, getting Shawn's attention.

“What?”

She grinned. “Shotgun!” She was up and out the door before he could respond.

He sputtered, getting off the couch. “Wait! You can't call shotgun,” he called after her.

Gus grinned at him. “Welcome to fatherhood, Shawn,” he said, following Nikki out the door.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. This whole being a dad thing was going to be harder than he thought. And it would mean some pretty big changes in his life. He hoped he was up to the challenge.

Outside, a horn honked impatiently. “Come on, dad!” Nikki called. He could hear Gus scolding her for touching the steering wheel.

He grinned to himself. Change can be a good thing. A week ago he had been sitting here, bored, hoping for something interesting to walk through the door. It was hard to believe so much had happened in so little time. Now he had a new case, with his best friend and daughter waiting for him to get started. He chuckled to himself. He doubted 'bored' would be something he would be experiencing anytime soon. “Challenge accepted,” he said, before walking out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this was more a teaser than a full chapter. I know people were hoping for more.
> 
> Hope everyone liked the story.
> 
> I have started on the sequel to this story. It will be longer than this one, so it will take me a bit of time to write it. I will upload it as quickly as I can.
> 
> I'm also working on a quick Shassie oneshot and the first story in a Shassie series.
> 
> See you all soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think.


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